Fragility
by xgirlghost
Summary: Logan's POV. After a villain takes away all mutant powers on earth, the X-men have to learn to adjust. For most, it's a minor annoyance or even a blessing. But for Logan, it could mean the hardest fight of his life. Rated M because, well, it's Logan and he curses a lot.
1. Aftermath

[A/N:]While I was bored, I found a somewhat obscure moment in comic history: the time that the High Evolutionary stripped the mutants of the area of their powers. Not having the ability to actually acquire the comic books in question at the moment, I searched the internet for information on this event, specifically: how Wolverine dealt with it. Although Adamntium is said to be poisonous and Wolverine was suffering from the effects of that after his healing powers went 'poof!', no one could seem to tell me exactly what it was supposed to be like for him. A lot of the canonical information is probably wrong, such as what other team members were there at the time and the rule on artificially gained powers, but I'm doing the best I can with the knowledge I have. This story is set directly after the meeting/battle/whatever with High Evolutionary and circles around Logan's realization of his mortality. The whole thing is first person from Logan's perspective. I also put two of my OC's mostly as foil characters for Logan to interact with and show more of his character based on what he thinks/says about them. I hope you'll enjoy it! Feel free to criticize/review/comment.

EDIT 4/6/13: I couldn't bear it any longer, I had to re-proof this thing. It was sending people away with its grammatically-ignorant being long enough.

* * *

><p>Chapter 1: Aftermath<p>

At least none of us are dead - yet. Most everyone's in shock over suddenly losing their powers. Elise and I're the most unsure, since neither of us can remember a time before we could heal.

She's sitting still, staring straight ahead - as if a single wrong move will do her in. I sigh and sit next to her with my hand on her shoulder.

"The furball is sure the meds he gave you will keep you safe, at least from turning into a pile of dust or something."

"That's real comforting. ONE person is pretty sure I don't spontaneously disintegrate. Wonderful." She pouts and looks the other way.

She always was a bit of a drama queen…

"No, everyone here except you. I ain't that good at math, but I'm pretty sure twelve is better than one." She glances at me over her shoulder then leans on me.

"I suppose it is…"

~ooOoo~

"Ugh" Elise groans holding her forehead. "Do humans' heads usually hurt like this?" She asks after the X-jet landed in the hanger.

Must be just her 'cause I don't feel a thing.

"You are probably merely fatigued and suffering from stress. Discomfort is to be expected if you are not used to it." Hank replies.

He's probably right: if she was going to die from this, it would have happened hours ago.

"Yeah… I guess I should probably go to bed."

As if on cue, she yawns.

Hank chuckles, "I think we all should. Today has been a long day for everyone."

My hearing ain't nearly as good as it used to be, but I can still hear Scott whispering to Jean fairly clear, "Bed would be nice…"

He has his visor off as he runs his dammed fingers through her hair.

I grumble as I get up. At least now Jean can't get cross with me for fantisizin' li'l Cyke burning in Hell. Fuck you, Summers! Go rot in a fucking hole! If you were missing, I would glance over the surrounding area then tell everyone you were dead!

Walking into the brightly-lit subbasement, I hafta squint because the lights hurt my head.

I nudged Elise and whisper, "I see what you mean about that headache thing."

She nods with a chuckle and follows her husband, John, upstairs. Before she turns the corner, I notice a little red dripping out of her boot.

"Hey, sis."

"What?" She asks, annoyed.

Definitely over-tired.

I motion for her to sit down on a ledge and take her boot off. She gasps at the sight of the large splotch of blood on the underside of her sock. I look in her boot and pulled out a small, sharp rock before examining the wound.

"Just a few scratches, none too terribly deep. Let's go get you a bandage, though."

"I'll get it," John says quietly.

Maybe this no-power thing would be good for him, force the boy to actually speak up instead of using telepathy.

'No-power' ain't a completely correct way to describe it, though. Any mutant that had an artificial enhancement of some kind kept it: Hank's still got blue fur and animalistic features, but 'normal' proportions. Rogue's still strong and can fly, but she don't have to worry about accidentally bumping into someone; and Elise still has her claws. Don't know whether she still has her forcefields and invisibility, but I wouldn't bet against it.

John comes back with a first aid kit and begins to bandage her foot. I watch, glancing over at their faces before looking down again.

Woulda preferred she picked someone who'd stick up for himself better with people, but at least he's been good to her. And I suppose that's all I can ask for her: to be happy and loved.

I watch their exchange awkwardly as she tries to get down but John insists he carry her. She sighs, smiles and slings her arms around him as he scoops her up and carries her away.

Soon as they leave, it's silent as the grave.

Normally I'd hear all the electronics on this floor and people a few floors up, but no. It's completely silent. For a moment, I feel like I might not even exist, or this all is just a nightmare, because I can't hear my own heartbeat or breathing. But I touch my chest and feel it.

I squint, looking up, and contemplate whether I should follow the others, but the thought of speed, fresh air, and the roar of my motorcycle's much more appealing than the thought of lying awake in my room.

B'sides, I could use a stiff drink.

I change outta my costume then wander off to the garage to take a look at my bike. As I walk closer, I quickly realize it's list its luster. I grab my favorite riding jacket and hold it to my face to sniff, then frown.

It's like all the memories've been stripped offa it. It's like the opposite'a normal: I have my memories but the rest of the world forgot 'em.

"Logan?"

I jump in surprise 'cause I hadn't heard anyone come in. Had that been Sabretooth rather than Chuck, I'd probably be dead.

"Yeah, Chuck?"

"Logan, please remember not to do anything rash. You're not as indestructible as you used to be."

"Believe me, I know," I mount my bike and put on Scott's helmet.

The prick'll just have to deal.

"The world isn't any less beautiful now, Logan. You just have to look beyond the surface like the rest of us." I turned back to him as I started up the bike.

"Thought you couldn't read my mind."

"I don't have to," he says.

I take a long look at the road and drive off.

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><p>*** [another Author's Note:]<p>

_ Fuck you, Summers! Go rot in a fucking hole! If you were missing, I would glance over the surrounding area then tell everyone you were dead!_

While editing, I chose to leave this tidbit in, but also provide an explanation.

For those of you who didn't get the joke, this is exactly what happened in the movie that shall not be named. *coughcough*Last Stand*cough* In that scene, Logan and Ororo go looking for Scott at Alkali lake. Instead of continuing to look for him, they spazz out upon finding Jean alive and presumably just forget about Scott. Eventually Logan remembers that they were supposed to have been looking for Scott, so he asks Jean about him. Jean thinks she killed him and flips out, but since the scene doesn't show the moment he disintegrates, we cant be sure.

I conjecture that Scott is STILL pulling a Velma in the forest, surviving off of bugs and rabbits like Bear Grills, looking for his glasses that Wolverine pocketed.

Thanks for humoring me. I'd still love to see reviews, even a bad one. Let it rip, I won't take it personally.


	2. Pride and Stupidity

[Thanks to Jeanniebird for giving me the comic context.

A huge special thanks to MidLifeCrisis for being my Adamantium Poisoning guru and medical/overall beta. Without your help, this chapter would've flopped. THANK YOU!

The song that was going through my head as I wrote parts of this: "Waking up in Vegas" by Katy Pery]

Chapter 2: Pride and Stupidity

I never ended up taking a long ride through the forest like I originally planned. I couldn't just let myself go anymore: my reflexes were dull and I nearly crashed twice_._I still don't want to go back to the mansion, though. I don't want to be coddled over (except by Jean), and Chuck was already doing just that. So, I'm going to a place where no one cares who I am or what my story is.

"Hey, Logan! The usual?" The bartender asks.

"Huh? Yeah, sure." I reply.

I park myself at the bar and the bartender slides me my glass of black-label whiskey.

"Thanks." It tastes stronger than normal, burns for longer. 'Course, not enough to stop me. Eh… Oh well. Must be a human thing.

"'Nother one, man?"

I nod as I finish the first. I hope I'll get used to the damn burning soon.

The second tastes funny. I sniff it out of habit but smell nothing different from the first. Figures. Either my sense of taste is bitin' the dust or someone's trying to poison me. And I honestly don't give a single flying fuck.

My head begins to throb. I peer down into my near-full glass. Bottoms up.

My head. Why's it hurt? Why're the lights sodamnbright?

A voice booms like a crack of thunder in my head. "Hey! Quit your foolin' around! You scared me there."

Sprawled on the bathroom floor, my head pounding like a bass drum, I shift my aching body to get a better look at the voice. Squinting, I see undulating ribbons of color as I struggle to focus.

Holy shit! Pressing my palm to my right eye I realize it's swollen shut.

"W-what happened?"

"What _didn't _happen?"

Shit. He better be joking .His expression is all seriousness, though. Fuck.

Heaving myself to my feet, I'm in dire need of a grab-bar to keep my balance. "Couldja gimmie the gist?"

"Well- you started to say things that didn't make any sense – like how much you miss your buddies from the Great War… wasn't that, like, World War one or two or something? But you're what, 30? 35… maybe? Anyway, then you tried to lead the other patrons in some Japanese song, and then you failed at trying to woo a few women – at once. After they rejected you," Right about then, I really started to wish I hadn't asked. "You started complaining about how much you hate this one guy who stole your girl-"

"Bub, I asked for a summary, not a fucking novelization." I block some of the light with a hand as I pretend to run fingers through my hair.

"Let me finish." He pleads… or demands. I can't tell.

What I _can_ tell is I don't like where this is going. "So _then_, you… Er… 'flirted' with this woman whose husband was sitting right next to her. That's where that shiner came from. You almost fought back but you got sick and I checked on you when you didn't come out for a while but you were out cold. I was about to call for help because I've never seen you this bad off but then you woke up. There, done."

Least I didn't wake up in prison, or not at all.

"What time is it?" I groan.

"It's nearly four-thirty… in the morning… My shift ends in a few minutes. Ya don't look like you should drive."

That little quip was like a hammer to my pride. After all, I did piss the Hulk off once and he tore me in half. Had to crawl over a mile in the forest to find my legs. And I'm _still standing_, dammit! Well, sorta. The bar creaks again as I shift my weight. I guess I took too long to answer him because he fidgets nervously and speaks again.

"…so… you've been a good patron for a long time… if you need a ride…"

I grimace. He doesn't want to do it. He and I both know that. He's trying to keep my business. No doubt his boss put him up to it. On top of that, I really don't want to be in debt to an acquaintance. Kurt already owes me one anyway.

"Don't worry 'bout it; I got a friend in the area who'll understand."

He nods and smiles in relief.

After he left, I shuffle over to the sink. Jeez, that's _my_ face? The pale, beat up creature in the mirror staring backing back looks like he's got one foot in the grave.

Nope, not healing.

Aw crap! The room does a slow spin. And who's playing with the dimmer switch?

Suddenly my stomach lurches. Feeling hot, sour bile scour my throat, I lean over and hurl the booze and my guts into the sink.

Soon as the world quits spinning, I rinse out the putrid tastes and press a cool paper towel to my swollen eye. Calling the ex-elf was my next priority. I pull out my phone from my jacket pocket and dial the number.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings. Damn it. He better answ-

A click and a groan. "Mein freund, this better be good…"

" Hell's a fire, Elf. Ya know I wouldn't call at o-dark thirty for no good reason."

I hear Kurt curse in German under his breath. "What is the problem?"

"I got transportation problems." It's a variation of the truth. "And I need a lift."

More cursing, louder this time. "Fine but you owe me for this, mein freund."

"Hell no. Call it even from the last danger room session. You know the one where…."

Kurt's laugh cuts me off. "Alright. I won't be long. Promise me you won't do anything monumentally stupid between now and my arrival…"

'Monumentally' is a very subjective term. So is 'selective truth'.

"No prob."

I start to wonder if someone put steel shavings in the Jack. Feels like somebody stuffed cotton down my throat and I still taste galvanized vomit. Frickin' headache just won't quit. Shielding my eyes from the lights, I finally make it into the bar and slide into a corner booth to wait for my ride.

I growl in frustration. My bike's just outside, begging to be driven.

But Kurt's already coming and my keys aren't about to.

So I wait.

And wait.

I tap my foot and an older brunette waitress comes over. "Would you like to order something, dear?"

I barely glance up. My voice is a lot rougher than usual. It cracks, too. "Glass o' water an' a cup a joe, thanks." I hand her a few bucks for her trouble.

Kurt comes in as I finish my second coffee and third cup of water. Didn't do much, I still feel like shit.

His eyebrows furrow in concern the second he sees me. "Mein Gott, you look horrible!"

Aw, Dammit. This was after I cleaned up some, too. "Thanks." I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kurt looks guilty.

"Sorry, Logan. No offense… what happened?"

"It's a long story, elf." My voice cracks again. Kurt raises an eyebrow.

"Ah… I see." Elf really is a good friend and doesn't push. " In any case, Let's get home."

He watches closely as I get up. Casual as I can, I hold on to the edge of the booth. If Kurt noticed anything, he kept his mouth shut.

He leads me out to the car, again keeping silent as I stumble and weave a crooked path.

"If you need to lie down get in back. Oh, and kindly do not puke in my car."

Yeah, knew he couldn't keep his mouth shut forever.

Flashing an evil grin, I say, "I'm fine."

Resigned, he sighs, gets in the driver's seat and starts the car.

We don't talk much on the drive home. I spend most of my time glaring intently at the headliner since looking out the windows is making me nauseous. I can see Kurt shaking his head at me out of my peripherals.

People were already downstairs waiting when we come home. More specifically, the intervention squad: 'Roro, Jean, Hank, and li'l Scotty.

Fuck.

They were standing in tight formation. Jean had her arms across her full and perky chest, tapping her foot, and glaring at me. If she's hot normally, she's on fire when she's angry. I watch her arms tighten oh-so slightly around her gorgeous-

"Logan," 'Roro says with a gentle yet forceful tone. "As your friends, we wish to express our concerns about recent events."

"You have to remember that your actions affect the team as a whole." Cyke's frustration is obvious. I snarl at him just to make him flinch.

"I'm not the one who told ya to get up from yer beauty rest."

"Logan, if we cannot compel the High Evolutionary to restore our mutant abilities, we may very well be stuck like this for a long time, perhaps the rest of our lives. If you continue to engage in such risky behavior, your life may come to an end sooner than it should."

"Who asked ya, bub?" I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Headache's back full force. Ignoring it ain't happening.

"You're going to become a liability to the team if you keep this up, mister." Scott-the-pansy-ass "leader" said.

I take a step towards him with a snarl. "Ya think I'm a liability, bub? Healing factor or not I could pound your sorry ass into the ground without breaking a sweat. You wanna talk about liabilities, Scotty-boy?"

Suddenly Jean has a hand on both of our shoulders and takes turns glaring at us.

"Stop it. Both of you. You're both right and you're both very wrong. Logan, you're correct in that none of us are strong or powerful as we once were, but we all need to understand our limitations now. That goes for _BOTH_ of you."

She glares at the both of us again, and then she softens like caramel in the sun, turning to me. "None of us want to see you hurt."

She still has her hand on my chest and I see in the way she's looking at me that this is more than just a group warning. I barely hear what else she says as I find myself lost in her emerald eyes. It looks wrong to see them in such a pained face. Suddenly her face becomes pleading, expecting a response.

"I'll be more careful. Promise."

She smiles and nods at me but I can feel my heart rip when she stands with Scott. It might just be wishful thinking, but for a second she looks just as torn.

"I think we can leave it at this for now." 'Roro has her poker face on, and with my senses shot, I can't see through it.

Everyone agrees so I go down the hall. Chuck sees me walking by from in the library and calls me over.

"Good morning, Logan." As I walk into the room, Chuck lays down his copy of Dicken's _A Tale of Two Cities_.

"I just had this discussion with the rest of them, Chuck. It's settled."

"Of course. However, you are wrong in assuming I intended to chide you about mistakes you've already made. Those are in the past and there is nothing we can do to change that. I merely wanted to wish you a good morning."

Wait. "What?"

He smiles knowingly. "I _did_ warn you. When you proved unwilling to heed my warning, I found the only thing I could do was… what's that phrase you use with the children? Oh, yes," His eye glints. "'Let the scars of learning happen'." Very funny. My eyes narrow.

"So, Chuck, how're you coping with this whole deal?" Getting the focus off me sounds as good a plan as any.

"To be honest, I feel a bit… handicapped, actually." He chuckles. "It's peculiar, not being connected to the team and students. Though, I've already grown fond of the extra silence for when I wish to read." He gazes wistfully at the shelves of books. He looks back at me and smiles. "Well, good morning."

"Good morning, Chuck." I nod and let him go back to reading.

After I got a hot shower and a change of clothes, I began wandering the upstairs hallways. Only a few kids are up now, all in pajamas. It feels too quiet, but oddly peaceful.

Back, knees, and hips still hurt like hell, though.

I feel old. My aching back says I'm old.

Hank said my age was impossible to tell because of my healing factor.

The guy bartending said I was talking about shit from WWI, like I was _there_.

Elise says she remembers some but says I'm probably better off not knowing. I don't even know for sure whether she's actually my sister or just crazy. Which is actually a greater possibility than anyone cares to admit.

And Chuck wants me to figure it all out on my own but won't give me a hint how. That really pisses me off sometimes.

I growl in frustration, walking aimlessly through the halls. There are only a few kids around since its late morning.

Elise is curled up tightly in a blanket next to a bathroom door with one hand holding a rag and the other a bottle of mouthwash. Looking paler than normal (almost didn't think it was possible), she has huge dark circles under her eyes. Staring at me, her expression is dull and lifeless.

"You look like shit." She says without one hint of sarcasm.

I glare down at her, "And what does that make you?"

"Someone who wishes she got more sleep." She groans," 'Least I'm still bruise free thankyaverymuch."

As much as she's trying to do to hide it, she looks very ill. Isn't that boy supposed to be looking after her? Where is he?

"Why ain't John with ya?"

"Didn't want to wake him e'ery time I had to puke. I think he's still asleep, actually." She smiled weakly and laid her head back on the wall.

I tried to tease her a little to mask my concern, "Oh, for a second there I thought you just ran outta vodka."

She gave me a confused look and I pointed to the bottle of mouthwash. She stuck her tongue out at me like a defiant two-year old. Didn't work, but at least she ain't cross with me for more than a second.

"Nah, but I bet that woulda worked, too." She started to get up and dry heaved for a bit.

"You sure ya ain't pregnant or something?" I ask as I rub her back. She promptly swats my head with the plastic mouthwash bottle

"Yes, I'm very sure I'm not. Besides nearly throwing up my guts every few minutes, I have no other possible symptoms of pregnancy."

I know if I wait, she'll explain more, which is usually amusing. 3… 2… 1…

"… and I already failed the piss-stick test _three times_," she continues.

…Right on schedule. No wonder she got bitchy when I teased her about it. If it weren't for her being this sick I'd probably think her expression was hilarious. Change of subject.

"You had breakfast yet?"I ask.

She freezes and stares at me like I'm nuts. "Of course not! I'm waiting until I think I won't throw it up again a minute later. Food isn't exactly appetizing at the moment, anyway."

To be honest, I have no idea if her idea made sense or not. Never really had to find out. I shrug. "At least get something to drink. Want me to get you something?"

She glares at me and narrows her eyes. "Thanks, but I'm perfectly capable of getting it myself."

She stands up as tall as she can with her hands on her hips. I watch closely as she pulls herself together and starts walking to the nearest elevator.

"I'm coming with you."

Shit. I'm starting to sound like the rest of 'em.

I use the fact that Elise doesn't want to risk tripping down the stairs as an excuse to use the elevator down. I feel lightheaded and my vision started to fade in and out again, so I lean against one of the walls.

"So… how _did _you get that shiner?" Elise smirks at me.

I shrug. "Bar fight."

She swats the back of my head with her hand. "You idiot! Whadja do that for?"

"Whadja hit me for?" On top of the headache I already had, that stung.

The doors open and she gets out first, obviously overacting how well she wants us to think she is. Subtlety sure ain't her forte.

"Fer bein' an idiot!"

We part. The room starts to spin faster than a car on black ice. Speaking of black, that's where my vision's going now. I sit down.

Gone.

Kitty's shrill yell startles me awake. Man, that kid's got a pair a lungs on her. "ELISE! WAVING A CHOPSTICK CROSS AND ACTING LIKE I HAVE THE PLAGUE IS NOT GOING TO KEEP YOU FROM GETTING MY FLU! I BET YOU HAVE IT ALREADY!"

The fuck..? No one is watching, so I slowly and carefully get out of the chair before trying to stretch my back and legs a little. My back sounds like a bag of popcorn and hurts a lot worse than it had before.

Eventually I make it into the kitchen. The little argument has been sorted out. John's finally awake and downstairs, the adults have congregated in the kitchen, and Elise is resisting Hank's efforts to get her to comply with his medical advice.

Meanwhile, no one notices me hobble in and lean against a wall where I vow to stay until everyone else leaves. I grab a bottled water from the case on the counter next to me and drink some. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was until I started drinking.

"I'm fine." Elise growls.

"You've been vomiting for the past few hours." Hank says. Gulp.

"Which people without healing factors do sometimes…?"

"…When there's something wrong. An illness." He retorted.

"It's not that bad." Her voice is raspy and cracked. I finish off the bottle and re-cap it before tossing it into the recycling bin. It's a small relief I made it in the bin so I don't have to get it.

"Would I be correct in my assumption that you've never been vaccinated… for _anything_?"

"Yeah. So?"I hear her reply. How is this possible? I just downed a bottle of water and my mouth is still as dry as before!

"…Which would mean you've never had a flu shot." Hank continues. Feels like I've been chewing aluminum foil. Tastes like it, too. I don't remember doing that, though.

"Yes, Hank, I think that's still included in _'anything'_." She rolls her eyes dramatically.

And now for the staring contest. Elise may be almost as stubborn as I am, but Hank has always been better at keeping calm. Elise's fingers twitch in frustration. She knows she isn't going to win this. Hank leans closer, still the epitome of calm.

"Your 'human' immune system has had little to no experience in dealing with pathogens since for the vast majority of your life you've been protected by your healing factor. You likely don't have any immunities because you never needed them. You effectively have the immune system of a newborn."

"… so?" She asks. Fuck it. New bottle.

"Newborns often need to be hospitalized from diseases which people with more developed immune systems find inconsequential. Influenza would be one such disease."

Huh. Same thing with hangovers? Maybe it'll get better with time. The vision blackout thing needs to end. So does this damn headache… I try to be discreet as I rub my temple. I take a few more gulps of water. Water's supposed to help with headaches, right? Or was that heat exhaustion…

Elise's wide eyes betray fear for a split second before she becomes skeptical rather than outright defiant.

"I'll think about it." And that was the end of that. Everyone went back to what they were doing.

I'm hungry… Wonder what there is around here. I started to shuffle over to the 'fridge to- OW! I nearly fell over. Not because of blacking out, but because the muscles in my leg suddenly go tighter than a bow string.

Hank is the only other person in the room. Of course he noticed. Just my fucking luck.

"Logan, I need to know all the symptoms you've experienced since yesterday."

I growled at him. "If this is about my drinking, we've already been over this."

"Indeed, though I find it very curious that you and your sister have both had strange symptoms starting at very close to the same time. Regardless of whether or not you were drinking and she has the flu, I don't believe it's merely a coincidence. Try sitting with your leg stretched out and pulling your toes towards you."

I just stare at him, confused.

"Am I wrong in assuming it's a muscle cramp?"

I shake my head 'no' and do as he said. Irritatingly, it feels a little better.

"Alright, Hank. Howsabout we discuss this over an early lunch?"

Hank nods and smiles.

We set up shop in his office for privacy. We both have cold cuts and the furball has his digital tablet to write down whatever I say. Even though he's a good friend, the idea of having him taking notes has me on edge.

Hank swallows a bite and looks up to me. "So, Logan, besides not having your healing factor, was there anything strange on the flight home?"

"Well," I lean back and put my feet on the table. Hank gave a disapproving glance but didn't say anything. "Besides havin' a strong urge to wipe the smirk offa Summers' face- Oh wait!"

"Logan, we agreed this is a potentially serious matter. It could be nothing, but I won't know unless you cooperate."

I sighed. "Nope. Nothing off on the flight home."

He scribbled some notes and mumbled to himself:

"Elise complained of a headache, though…"

He stopped scribbling and looked up at me. "Have you had a headache?"

"Yeah."

"When did it start?"

I shrug. "Uh… 'bout right after I got outta the jet." I glanced up to try to read what he was writing, but the font was too small. I took the opportunity to take a few more bites of my food.

Shit. Please. Not now.

But I just ate!

The sudden wave of nausea is horrible. I lean back and close my eyes and try to think of anything that had nothing to do with puke.

The ceiling.

The ceiling is white.

The ceiling is white.

The ceil-

"Logan? Is something the matter?"

My gut clenches.

Do not. Open. Mouth.

Trash can's on the other side of the room. Getting up and running don't seem like a good idea. But neither does just sitting here.

"Logan?" He got up and put a hand on my shoulder.

I have one hand over my mouth and the other pointing to the trash can. My gut clenches again.

"Here." He hands me the can and I immediately spill my lunch into it.

"Thanks." I cough and wipe my mouth with the napkin he gave me. After, I take a swig of water and flop back in the chair. Hank changed the bag and left the can next to me.

"New symptom: Vomiting. Since the two symptoms I have written down apply to both of you, this supports my theory that the illnesses are related. However, I still need more information. Headache and vomiting can be the symptoms of a lot of diseases. Any more symptoms?"

"Muscle cramps. Back hurts. Rest o' me hurts, too."

Hank writes some more and pushes the glasses up his nose.

"Your back pain, describe it. Where is the pain?"

"Uh, hell if I know. It just hurts. A dull ache, kinda low, 'round here." I rub the middle of my back.

More notes. He looks them over and frowns.

"Anything else?"

"Get kinda dizzy. Feels like I'm gonna pass out."

He looks me over before writing a few more things down.

"I'd like to do some blood work. Do you think you can stand?"

"Yeah." With some effort and a helluva lot of pain, I stand up. Hank carefully leads me to the medlab.

He motions to the bed closest to us. "Sit; lie down, whichever is more comfortable."

I brace myself for the pain of getting up, but it does feel a little better to lie down. Hank washes up and puts on blue rubber gloves – I cringe at the sound of them snapping – before coming back with a blood draw kit displayed neatly on a cart.

"Clench your fist."

I do so and he picks up the rubber strip and tied it around my arm. The alcohol pad was cold. I don't look until after he already has the needle in my arm. The blood flows down the tube and into a small vial. Then he switches the vial for a different one. He does this a few times. He takes the needle out of my arm and unties the band.

"Snoopy or Batman?" He grins and holds up two bandages.

I give him a very meaningful snarl. The meaning: "FUCK NO!"

He chuckles and covers the needle mark with a piece of gauze and a strip of tape.

"You do realize I was merely… what's the phrase… "Yanking your chain"?" He grins again. "The tests shouldn't take too long." He rummages through a drawer and hands me a sterile cup.

"In the meantime…" He says. My eyes narrow at him.

"Hank…"

"It's necessary, I assure you. Now, If you'll excuse me, I must retrieve your sister."

I laugh humorlessly. "How much you wanna bet you'll have to put a gun to her head just to get her to set foot in here?"

He sighs. "I pray it will not require such extraordinary measures." He presses a button on the wall while I shuffle over to the bathroom.

A little while later, I place the mostly filled sealed cup on the counter next to Hank. He's starting to run the tests. The door slides open.

"You called?" John asks, carrying Elise in and placing her on another bed. She clenches her teeth and stews, shooting daggers at Hank. John sits by her in an attempt to calm her.

"Yes, thank you. I have to run some tests on Elise." Hank say as he snaps on another pair of gloves. He parks himself in a chair next to the bed they're sitting on.

"What? _ME_? Why?"

"Because you are ill and I have a disconcerting suspicion I know what the cause is." He has another sterile cup in one hand and had the blood draw kit on the other side of him. "Pick your poison."

Her eyes flit between the choices, lingering on the needle. She's breathing fast and she fidgets with her hands. She blushes scarlet before snatching the cup and hurrying to the bathroom. As she locks the door, I have to wonder: how's Hank planning on getting her out now?

Seven minutes pass, the door ain't budged. Hadn't furball seen this coming? He rubs the bridge of his nose. He's about to say something, but a machine in front of him starts printing. He grabs the paper and looks it over.

"John, would you do me a favor and coax her out?" Hank asks. John nods back and goes to the door to reason, plead and maybe bribe.

Hank walks over to me and speaks quietly. I doubt John would be able to hear him. "I regret to admit, but it seems my initial suspicion was correct. There is a significant amount of adamantium in your bloodstream. Even so, I can hardly fathom the amount. We both knew adamantium has poisonous properties, though we assumed we would never have the misfortune of discovering the full extent-"

"Hank. Long story short."

"Most heavy metal poisonings take months, years to cause symptoms. This has taken just a few hours to manifest. I will need to perform another blood test in the morning. You need to-"

"Hank," I warn. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Out of curiosity, I once delved into the properties of adamantium in order to determine what a likely course the poisoning could take." He sighs. "All the diseases I found to be similar almost certainly end in death or severe handicap when the person continues to be exposed to the offending substance."

What? Death?

Well, I can't exactly get away from my own skeleton – or even convince bucket-head to try to rip it out of me again. I shudder at that memory.

Death is for quitters. "I'm too damn stubborn to give up that easy."

Suppose I'll just have to show the damn disease who's boss.

Hank's mouth twitches into a small smile. It doesn't last, though.

"I _know_ it's not rational! That doesn't make it any less _horrifying_!" Drama queen.

I slide off the bed. Almost wasn't ready for the pain of moving again. I bang on the door twice.

"Elise, getting yourself worked up isn't gonna help anything."

"Well too. Damn. Late." She sniffles. "Just leave me alooooone." John walks away. Traitor.

"You're gonna have to get a blood test whether you want to or not." I say. No response. Just quick, heavy breathing and the occasional whimper. Hank comes over.

"Unfortunately, you're only prolonging the inevitable. I could have already had the results had you cooperated. Also, you will need another test in the morning after fasting for twelve hours."

"But… can't I just. Wait. In here until. The twelve. Hours. Are up?"

"No." Hank rubs the bridge of his nose. "That is an exceedingly unwise decision for numerous reasons."

John comes back with a screwdriver and proceeds to take apart the door handle.

"I'm sorry, love." He opens the door. She's curled up in a corner, drenched in sweat and tears. John goes to help her to her feet.

I watch in slow motion as her eyes glaze and she raises a hand to her forehead. She never even touches it, though, because she's already collapsing into her husband's arms.

So frail. Never seen her like this. Good thing she hadn't heard the conversation yet. If she's this worked up over a little piece of metal, what's gonna happen when she knows what's going on?

John brushes the hair off her still face. The only indication she's still alive is the small movement of her breathing. The way he cradles her, he knows whatever the outcome, this is going to be a long haul. The lines quickly forming on his face are far beyond his years.

I can muscle through my own pain. Done it for years. I'll fight this 'til the day they put the last nail in. I'm strong enough for that.

Am I strong enough to watch Elise go through the same?

Guess I'll have to be.


	3. The Important Things

[A/N: Thank you times a million to MidLifeCrisis! Without whom, this story and my writing in general would have been not nearly as good. Thank you to anyone who reads, enjoys, and writes constructive reviews.

Remember: every time you flame someone without justification, a baby unicorn gets sent to the glitter glue factory. That is all.]

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><p>Chapter 3: The Important Things<p>

"Ugh," Elise groans. "Wha' happn'd? Wher'm I?"

She's disoriented and the fucked up senses probably don't help none. Good thing Furball's already done with the blood draw. After a quick exam, Hank had decided she'd just fainted from panicking.

Ain't no one gonna know just how relieved I was to hear that.

John's calming her down again, stroking her hair. Won't let her get up for fear she'll faint again. Hank's over running the tests. When the machine spits the paper out, Furball snatches it desperately as an addict. He ain't smiling.

Shit.

Hank grabs for a phone with just as much nerve as before, "Hello, Charles? Yes. Yes, that would be astute. I will be ready for such a discussion forthwith."

Why does he always sound like he snacks on a dictionary between meals?

Dead silence takes over the room like a phantom. An icy chill runs down my spine and rests in my hands and feet. Sticking my hands in my pockets don't help none. I have a sinking feeling air temp has nothing to do with it. Later I might ask Hank about why my hands and feet feel like I've stuck 'em in a mini 'fridge, but I ain't doing it while Elise and the boy are still here. Don't wanna worry them, I tell myself. Fuck it, even I ain't believing that bullshit.

All of a sudden, Elise curls into John's shoulder as she coughs like a hardened smoker. The sound is sickening, almost as gut-wrenching as the crack of bone.

Hank puts his specs back on and gets up, eyes widened in curiosity but mouth contorted in a grimace. Eyeing him suspiciously, Elise leans further into John's shoulder as if he were a shield. Does she _really_ think that boy's gonna go against Hank?

Maybe not. Hank stops short like he'd walked into a glass wall. He sighs and holds up empty gloved hands. "I bear no ill will, or syringes," he says. After a moment, Hank tests the air in front of him with his hand and continues towards her.

The door opens and in comes Chuck. He ain't said one word yet and already I want the conversation to end.

"Hank, the matter sounds urgent," Xavier starts. His face is stony as a statue, but I can feel waves of concern rolling off him that would put a tsunami to shame.

Hank answers, "You are correct. These results indicate Logan and Elise are suffering from the early stages of acute adamantium poisoning." He hands Xavier two thin files, our medical files, I guess.

Thumbing through the papers, "Oh my," Xavier says, arching an eyebrow.

I try to hide my grimace. Of all the bad news today, somehow Chuck's stunned silence is the worst. A huge weight sinks into my chest.

Folding his hands before his chin, Charles sighs and murmurs, "This quickly?"

Hank nods. His expression is full of deep apprehension. "It appears-"

Elise's eye twitches as she wrings her shirt, "Will someone _please_ explain to me what the hell's going on?"

There he goes. Forming a steeple with his fingers, he raises his hands in front of his face. I just know he's brewing up some kinda cornball speech.

Elise rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

I sigh and mimic my sisters' posture, curious to hear what spin Charles' is gonna put on this latest clusterfuck.

"Elise, you and Logan are experiencing the effects of adamantium poisoning, an extraordinarily rare condition which threatens your lives," Chuck says.

No shit, bub but let's stow the violins, eh.

Apparently Elise doesn't think the same, because she's staring at him, her face completely blank.

I cringe and wonder if she's gonna cry. Nope. She busts out laughing.

What the hell? Everyone else shares my sentiment, proven by how Hank nearly jumps out of his furry hide in surprise at the shrill, half-manic sound.

"Aw, Professor, and here I thought you had no sense of humor!" she says, lazily batting the air.

After another giggle fit, she realizes she's the only one laughing. Chuck's eyebrows knit together and the rest of us mirror him.

Her eyes widen as they pass over each face. She pales a few shades, her blood retreating deeper into her skin. "Wait. No! That can't be right. Your data must be wrong. Even if what's his face deactivated our powers the DNA hasn't been altered which could possibly cause screwy results, right?"

Ought to bite my tongue on this one but I don't. "Think about where we are, who ran the tests." It doesn't take a flamin' rocket scientist to guess that one of the top mutant geneticists would have taken that into account.

She thinks about it for a split second, but then continues arguing, "But for adamantium poisoning there'd hafta be traces in our blood, right? Adamantium's indestructible so how do you figure it's in our blood?"

Okay, I'll give her that one. "Yeah, Hank. How's that possible?"

Adjusting his glasses, Hank shifts into a more comfortable stance. "The law of entropy," he says. "You see, the law of entropy states that the universe is invariably advancing towards a state of disorder –"

My eyes glaze over. Hank's real talented in making me wish I never asked. Before boredom does me in, I zone out.

Elise scrunches up her nose, "It's still not possible." And now that she's made up her mind on that, good luck convincing her otherwise.

Hank's still in lecture mode. "I regret to inform you that your specious talking points are exclusively that. The situation Charles describes is not just possible, it is fact. At the current rate of degeneration, I've estimated it will take less than two weeks to progress to the terminal stage."

"If that is the case, then we need to act immediately," Xavier says.

Arms wrapped around Elise as if he was her personal life preserver, John asks, "What can we do?" The kid sounds in control but the sweat forming on his brow makes him a liar.

"I will discuss this with the rest of the team. Though I usually do not condone violence, it seems force may be necessary and proper in this instance."

Guess furball really ain't kidding around if the head pacifist wants blood.

"I wanna go!" Elise interjects "No way you guys are leaving us here."

Chuck has that rare look of expressed authority; his hard-set lips say more about his stance than any words.

"I am afraid that will not be possible. Assuming it takes the team less than a week to prepare and enact a plan, you will be far too ill to overcome the complications associated with exiting and entering earth's atmosphere."

For once I agree with him. Different reasons, though. If we're preoccupied with whatever shit Adamantium poisoning can throw at us, or doped up on whatever RX cocktail Hank comes up with, there ain't no way either of us could stay focused in a fight well enough not to get ourselves or the team killed.

Elise ain't getting his point. Shoulders hunched and so tense her white knuckles are practically glowing, she glares her defiance. "Will not," she hisses.

"This is not a point I am negotiating. If you truly wish to help your own cause, you will not do anything rash."

Argument over, Chuck's expression softens but his resolve and conviction are just as strong. "I promise to do everything in my power to aide both of you. I must take leave directly."

Xavier's exit is announced with the sci-fi _whoosh_ of the sliding door.

There's a pause filled only with the sound of Elise tapping her metallic fingernails against the bed frame. Her eyes flit around the room, resting on Hank. "So, a sudden cross-country trip in search of the best sky-diving platforms is out, right?"

She's kidding, right? Furball and Chuck ain't about to let us _sneeze_ without supervision. Sure as Hell won't stop me from doing what I please, but I ain't saying squat. What they don't know won't hurt 'em.

"Correct. Any excursion outside the grounds is contraindicated - for _both_ of you." Hank aims a stink eye right at me.

Back at him, I snarl.

After a pause, Hank clears his throat, "In any event, both of you are severely anemic and need transfusions."

Without thinking, I look over to Elise, whose eyes are wide with terror – again. Good thing John's already got his arms around her.

Hank set up Elise's transfusion while having her cover her eyes and argue politics with him. To my surprise, it actually worked. She only got antsy again when she heard him pull a strip of tape to use on her arm. Sliding the thin tube from her vein, Hank says, "All done, Elise. You can look now."

As he sets up for my transfusion, he muses, "Logan, did you know many Asian cultures believe that one can predict certain personality traits by knowing a person's blood type?"

Elise grabs her phone out of her pocket and starts typing furiously. A small smirk plays across her lips.

I shrug. Maybe I heard it somewhere.

He continues, "Even though there have been no legitimate scientific studies to support this theory, many cultural stigmas and stereotypes are placed on those of certain blood types. You, for example, have AB negative. In America, type AB is called the 'universal recipient' because people with it have no antibodies for types A, B, AB, or O and could potentially receive any of these types in a transfusion as long as the Rh factor was correct, but I digress. In places such as Japan and Korea, people with type AB are known as loners with a duality to their personality -"

Elise chuckles and cuts him off, "According to Wikipedia, people with type AB are also stubborn, can't take a joke, and have an unholy affinity for Canadian beer, Cuban cigars and redheads."

"Elise!" I growl.

"I'm sh-sh-sure it doesn't say that, love." John says to her. Even though he comes off as cool-headed, his stuttering betrays him. Kinda wish the only thing he had to chew over was Elise's idea of a joke.

"It does _now_," she laughs and breaks into another coughing fit. Shorter this time, but it still earns complete silence for a moment.

Furball continues, "Type O's, like you Elise, are known in America as universal donors because type O, specifically type O negative, has no antigens that would cause the recipient's immune system to attack it. This makes sense given the manner in which your healing factor worked. I am sure you have already read this, but people with Type O are thought to be very extroverted, but often quite… insensitive." Face breaking into a crooked grin, Hank chuckles.

Insensitive unless the joke is on her, that sounds 'bout right.

"Which makes me kinda think this personality-blood type thing is bogus," she says dismissively and settles back against the pillows.

I snort. Maybe there is something to it after all.

Headache's back again and I struggle to find something in here to stare at that doesn't reflect the bright lights. Damn stainless steel everything. My tongue feels like fine-grain sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. The dizziness is going away, but the nausea and steely taste are still here and getting harder to ignore.

Swallowing against the sensation, I have to keep my voice soft. "Hey, John, why doncha see if Xavier needs ya for something."

Seeming to catch my drift, he nods and gets up. "W-would either of you l-l-like something when I come back?"

"Nope but thanks." I feel a twinge of guilt kicking him out. He is Elise's husband, which makes him family – sorta - maybe. But, hell if I'm gonna spill my guts in front of an audience.

"A deck of cards would be nice, honey. I'm getting' kinda bored," Elise says as she fidgets with a lock of her own hair.

The boy nods to her and kisses her forehead before leaving. Her grin from earlier is gone and she coughs again, crumpling weakly in the bed.

I'm trying to hide my discomfort, so why is it so surprising that she would try to do the same? Wonder how much of the banter earlier was forced? Not gonna think too hard on that now, got more pressing issues.

My gut clenches, "Hank…"

He jumps up from whatever the hell he's doing, bringing a sick bowl. Some unproductive dry-heaving later, Hank comes back over with two cups: one with water and one with pills.

"Whazzat?"

"Something for nausea."

Normally I hate the idea of meds, but I'm not gonna argue about that. Just hope my one-time acceptance won't give Hank any ideas.

Ever the drama queen, Elise pressing a hand to the side of her face, "Oh the irony!"

I swallow the pills and down the water. "What the hell you talkin' 'bout?"

She's got a wide grin plastered over her face. "That's Zofran. It's usually prescribed for _morning sickness_. Karma is a funny thing, oh-brother-of-mine."

Already I can tell this's gonna be a long two weeks. "Yeah, hilarious. Hi-flamin'-larious."

Transfusion done and more meds prescribed, we go our separate ways. Now that puking won't be a problem, I plan on filling up the tank. Of course, it would help if my mouth didn't taste like I'd been munching on damn steel wool. And… blood? I wipe one of my front teeth with a finger and see red. Shit.

Cutting through the kitchen, I use the oven door as an impromptu mirror. My reflection looks like a monster from one of those cheesy horror movies the students like. Well ain't this just fucking amazing? I grab a water, make a sandwich and make tracks elsewhere.

I decide against the confinements of my quarters; it already feels too long since I've been outside. I ain't the only one out here. There's Elise, standing on a hill. She's kinda far away but it looks like she's flipping off the sky. Not sure I wanna ask…

Of course, she's up there alone, and since I don't recall whether she refused the drugs or not, is either stoned or in a lot of pain. Either way, SOMEONE needs to babysit her since her shadow is nowhere to be found. Why do I always get stuck being the nanny?

I sigh, and muscle through the trek up the hill. I'm a few feet away and she hasn't noticed me yet. I lean on the nearby tree and take a bite out of my sandwich. After a bit, I comment, "Don't get me wrong, I could care less about you doing that, but the elf might take offense."

She turns around and scowls, "What?"

"He doesn't take too kindly to people giving his god the bird. All I gotta say 'bout that."

She looks confused, "But I wasn't- Well maybe… him, too I guess."

"So, what _were_ you doing?" I ask gently.

"Flipping off the High Evolutionary. I'm sure he's watching the mansion from that little satellite of his."

I rub my forehead. "I think you may have just taken paranoid to a whole new level. What exactly did you think this was going to accomplish?"

"I don't expect it to do anything, never did. It's a little satisfying, though." She shrugs, "And you know the maxim; Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. He seemed just a little bit scared we might try to rebel regardless of not having powers, and he obviously has the means to check up on us if he wanted, especially since we now have no way of detecting him."

I finish my sandwich before replying, "Look, Chuck ain't worried. I'm sure he woulda thought about that."

"The professor and Hank are too busy worrying about us."

She pauses for a moment before looking up at me with a hint of fear plastered on her face, "_Should_ they be worried?"

I honestly ain't sure, sounds rough at the least. I think Furball may be taking our resilience for granted, though. "See, the thing about Chuck is he always takes the chance to be a-"

Elise cuts me off, "Oh my God, what happened to your face?" She stares wide-eyed in the direction of my mouth.

Christ on a pogo stick! This is the second time today someone said something like that. "I'm fine, thanks. How're you?"

"Touché… But seriously, what happened to your face?"

"Will you let it go, already?" I growl.

Arms crossed, she huffs, "Fine. Next time I _won't_ be concerned." She stalks back toward the mansion.

I roll my eyes, "You're a real pain in the ass sometimes, ya know that?"

She glances back with a devious grin. Once she shuts the door behind her, I'm alone. Now it's just me, nature, and this cigar in my pocket.


	4. Predator or Prey?

[This chapter brought to you by:

my awesome beta MidLifeCrisis!

I do not own Wolverine or any of Marvel's X-men (as much as I would like to). However, I do own Elise, John, and heavily-spray-painted limbs (No, MLC, it STILL won't come off).

Remember the unicorns, guys!]

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

"Predator or Prey?"

Stairs are a bitch.

'Roro'd woke my sorry ass up from my not-so-peaceful dreaming for supper. Prob'ly shoulda taken another half dose of pain killers before I got outta my room. Oh well.

I feel more worn out than when I crawled into bed.

Last flight, finally. I wander over to the dining room and see everyone already sitting down. Some stare, but all are silent. I hold back a snarl, barely. The only one completely unaffected by my arrival is Elise, who stares bored at her plate while absently pushing the food around.

The chair creaks as I sit next to Kurt and as far away possible from Hank. Prefer if he not start examining my every move while I'm eating. Not that the distance will stop him, but at least I have a good vantage point for a nice 'fuck off' snarl.

The room's still silent, other than the hesitant click of silverware. I'm getting' the impression I'm out of the loop on something. I fill my plate, but not heaping helpings like normal. I realize I'm not as hungry as usual.

Bobby breaks the silence, "Uh… what was that you were saying, Scott?" The conversations start back up like an old steam engine: slow and forced at first, but much smoother as the momentum picks up.

I don't say anything, and no one seems to mind. Hell, most are pointedly ignoring me. I'm fine with that. I chew on a large piece of steak. I notice a few of the girls are missing. The talkative ones: Kitty, Tabitha, and Jubilee, so I don't mind much.

Ororo smiles gently at me from across the room before continuing her conversation with Scott. It's the only acknowledgement I've had since I came in.

Unfortunately, it ain't the last. "Hey Logan,"

I raise an eyebrow, not even looking up at fearless leader. Don't wanna hear 'im.

He doesn't take the hint. "When you went out yesterday, did you take my helmet?" There's a bit of indignation in his tone, even though he tries to deadpan it.

Elise stops putting her food into piles and looks up at me in the way a fox pricks its ears. Her expression is half amusement, half admiration. I have a hunch if I don't own up to taking the damn thing she'll have fun stringing Scott along about it. Tell him she hid it someplace.

Sorry to disappoint, sis, but it's my turn to piss him off. "Yeah, what of it?" I stuff some potatoes in my mouth.

Scott bristles but keeps his cool. "Where is it?"

"A bar," I say, picking at a tooth.

His mouth twitches. I wonder how long before the fearless leader loses his cool? "Which one?"

"The one I was nice enough not to bring your bike to. Yer welcome."

"Listen, mister. There was no reason for you to-"

Elise pipes up, "You tell 'im, boy scout!"

Immediately, Scott's glare shifts from me to her. I think that's a vein popping out of his forehead.

She looks away with a coy smile as she twirls a lock of hair around her finger, her voice high-pitched and innocent, "Whaaaat? I was supporting you."

Scott's about to lash out, but before he can get a word in she starts coughing loud enough to make speaking useless.

"Enough," Chuck says eyeing the three of us. As soon as she's done with her fit, Elise shoots him an innocent look. Chuck stares her down and she looks away, smirking.

I finish my plate and bring it to the kitchen. Kurt's already there, washing dishes.

"You have a habit of keeping dinner entertaining, mein freund," he says, taking my plate.

I nod, "Hey, was Kitty too sick to come downstairs?"

Kurt hesitates, "Ja… and no. Herr Professor said it vas unwise for her to be with the rest of us. Some of the students are having dinner in her room with her."

"How come?" I already know the answer, but it's nice to have proof.

He clams up and looks down, suddenly very interested with the plate he's working on.

"Well? Spit it out." I cross my arms and lean against the wall. I hold back a wince from my aching back. Really shoulda taken those painkillers.

He stops and glances at me over his shoulder. "You are unvell."

Sure it wouldn't take a genius to figure that out, but the hairs on the back of my neck stick out at the idea of Hank and Chuck blabbing about the adamantium poisoning. I don't want any fucking sympathy. Don't need it. I'll get over it. Always have, always will.

"What'd Chuck say ta you and the rest?" I growl.

Kurt's eyes widen slightly, "Not much, only that you and Elise vere ill and ve needed to defeat the High Evolutionary ASAP."

I raise an eyebrow, "You _sure_ that's all he told ya?"

His eyes glint. "Herr Professor _did_ say to give you and your sister an extra wide berth." His tone changes to seriousness. "But no, he kept us quite in the dark about your illness. Said you prefer it that vay, da?"

"Good." I intend to keep it that way. I relax a bit, shift my weight. "Hey, elf, wouldja mind taking me out later to get my bike?"

"Ah… entschụldigen, mien freund. That vas the last thing they said. We aren't to help either of you leave the grounds." He shrugs his shoulders in defeat.

"Damn." I say under my breath. I'd been betting on him helping me out. I wouldn't bother, just borrow a school car, but I need another person to drive the car back.

I taste blood again, so I make sure I don't show my teeth too much. "Well, see ya later, elf." I head back to my room for the night. Can't stand this damn stepping on eggshells shit anyway.

On my way to the elevator, I run into Rogue and the Cajun. They're locking lips, which they've been doing almost incessantly since we all lost our powers. I shake my head when the elevator doors close.

* * *

><p>Too many friggin' couples.<p>

I sigh and gander at the clock. Fuck, 1:02 a.m. and I'm wide awake. The little bit I did sleep was ruined by a nightmare.

There's a single loud _thud_ on the door followed by a series of impatient raps. "Who is it?" I grunt, already guessing.

"Your fa-vor-ite person." Elise says in a sing-song voice. "You sleeping?"

"What the hell do you think?"

She opens the door, completely dressed and swinging a set of keys around her finger. "Jeez, no need to get bitchy with _me_. I was _gonna_ take ya to rescue yer bike, but if yer gonna cop a 'tude, I might just change my mind." She crosses her arms and tilts her head back to give the illusion of looking down on me.

I scowl at her. She wants out as much as I do so there ain't no way I'm playing her games.

She gives me an apathetic glance. "Eh… close enough to a smile. C'mon, let's go." She walks in, goes through my drawers, and throws me a clean set of clothes. "No shirt, no shoes, no taxi service." As quickly as she came, she exits, not bothering to close the door.

It'll be a miracle if anyone teaches that girl about personal space.

* * *

><p>It wasn't as hard as I'd expected to sneak out. We just kept quiet and slipped out the door. No one set watch. Maybe Chuck thought we'd be scared enough to just follow the rules. <em>I<em> ain't gonna be outright stupid, can't speak for chatterbox over here, but _how_ long has he known us?

As soon as we get to the car, she shuts up completely. I shoot her a glare. "So, why is it you wait till _now_ to keep quiet? You coulda woken up the whole mansion with that mouth of yers."

She shrugs, "Dunno. Guess I ran out of stuff to say. Hey, I heard from Jubilee one of the local stations is doing an all-night tribute to Lady Gaga and Katy Perry. Wanna tune in?"

I scowl at her, "Whada _you_ think?"

"Just a suggestion," she trails off and flicks on the radio.

_Up next, please enjoy the Camelot concert suite performed by The Cincinnati Pops Orchestra conducted by Erich Kunzel._

Classical. At least it's not rap or that other shit the kids listen to. She puts that on sometimes, no clue how she stands it.

We drive for the most part in silence. Not at all awkward, at least for me. I glance at the clock every so often as I drive. Elise taps her finger to the beat of the music occasionally.

"What kinda hell do ya think Hank'n the others'll raise when they figure out we snuck out?" She asks, half-smiling.

I shrug, "Dunno. Don't care much, really."

"Think we'll be in deep shit when we get home?"

"Probably." No worse than we were in before.

"Think the Professor'll put us in detention?" She laughs.

I snort, "Nah. I _do_ think you're getting too into this rebellion thing." Take it down a notch before you get yourself hurt. I'd hate to see that.

Rain starts up not long before we arrive. In the time it takes to make the next turn, the rain's nothing short of torrential. Elise's car has no trouble with handling, though.

Breaks are good, too. I have to stop short at an intersection because someone else's breaks ain't so good. The other car slides clear-cross the intersection before coming to a stop and starting up again, albeit slower.

I notice there aren't any raindrops falling on the car even though it's still pouring. I look over to Elise. She gives me a half-smile and I hear the rain pound against the windshield again.

I pull into the parking lot of the bar. My bike's still there, just like I left it. Good damn thing. I leave Elise in the car as I get my keys. The same bartender's on duty tonight and he remembers me right away.

I rev the engine to get Elise's attention. She starts the car and we drive out.

* * *

><p>It's past three. Rain's still going strong making the road slick and my knuckles frozen, but it ain't too bad. I missed the thrill of riding.<p>

I keep my eyes on the road. We're in a two lane one way street, so I speed up ahead. I keep this pace going for a bit. A stoplight turns amber and I gently press on the brakes. They lock up and I end up hydroplaning. I try to regain control but I do too little, too late and my bike slams into the guardrail, catapulting me off.

I open my eyes to the sight of oncoming raindrops that do little to soothe the road rash I'm sporting. Cursing a blue streak, I haul my sorry, mud soaked ass off the ground.

"Oh my God. Are you okay?" Elise runs over to me.

"Peachy," I growl.

"We're switching. The car has more comfortable seats." She says with a hard-set face and furrowed eyebrows.

I glare at her, "I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but I'd feel better if we switched." She ain't about to compromise on this one. The rain picks up so now our hair is sticking to our heads as I hand her the helmet.

"Take my jacket, too," I say when I notice she ain't got one. Just a t-shirt that's half-soaked already.

"What good'll it do? You broke the zipper in the crash."

"Just wear it for god's sakes."

She doesn't argue any more as she puts it on and hauls the bike out of the mud with her forcefield.

I can feel her watchful stare burning into my back as I limp back to her car.

"Let's go." I growl.

* * *

><p>Other than the crash, the rest of the trip was uneventful. Elise's phone had been ringing off the hook, but she has a passcode on it and I can't guess and drive at the same time. I ended up taking the battery out because it was so annoying. Who the hell puts a song called "The Hampster Dance" as their ringtone? She's lucky I didn't just throw the damn thing out the window.<p>

The sun's rising over the silhouettes of the forest as we pull up to the mansion. We don't bother parking in the garage; the front gate is closer and requires less walking to get from point A to my bed. Besides, Elise is getting a little shaky in her driving and I really don't want her to crash, too.

My whole body feels stiff as a board and about twice as painful as before. It's all I can do to keep from yowling in pain as I get out of the car.

Looking over, I realize why her driving had been so shaky: Elise is shivering violently, huddled as far into my jacket as she can get. Her hair's still wet and sticking to her extra pale, slightly blue face when she takes the helmet off.

I wrap my arm around her to try to warm her up. "Christ! Why didn't you pull over?"

"I j-j-just w-wanted ta g-g-get home. You w-were already h-h-hurt."

"Bull!" I growl, "C'mon, let's get inside."

Rogue bursts out the door and runs toward us, "Ah was so worried! Ah called botha y'all an' I didn't get any answer."

Elise and I look at each other then back at Rogue.

"Well, we're back now," I say, trying to push past her. She gets the hint and opens the door for us.

Like before, there's a small group waiting. This time, they're more frantic. Why wouldn't they be? We vanished without a word and showed up in early morning with Elise soaked to the skin, half-frozen, and me covered in mud and having a hard time moving. Not to mention the patches of ground meat that used to be skin.

Still shivering, Elise shoves Scott's helmet to him, "Here." She clenches her teeth to keep them from chattering.

Scott gives us a double take. "Do I want to ask?" Funny, he actually looks a little concerned. I wonder again how much the egghead duo said.

We shake our heads.

John rushes over to Elise, cups her face in his hands and brushes the hair off her face. He doesn't say a word, but that's normal for him.

Jean starts shooing people, especially the forming crowd of curious students, away when Hank walks up. He unfolds his specs and puts them on, doesn't bother scolding us, "Both of you need to report to the medlab immediately. In conjunction with the additional blood tests I require from you, I also need to determine what physiological consequences your excursion has had."

Elise winces at mention of blood draws, but doesn't seem to have the energy for a full-bodied protest. Jean and John whisk her in one direction and I follow Hank in another.

"How long ago did this happen?" Hank asks when we're alone in the elevator.

"Dunno. What time is it now?" I ask, trying to avoid the question.

I'm fine, dammit. Just need some rest, maybe an icepack. Yes, an icepack sounds wonderful now.

He glances at his watch, "Half past six." He looks me in the eye, not giving up, "What time?"

I scowl at him, "Few hours ago, I guess."

He nods and scribbles something down on his tablet.

He looks me over, paying special attention to the patches of road rash. "How did your injuries occur?"

"Slick road." I ain't about to go into details. It's embarrassing enough that the great Wolverine got his ass kicked by some rain.

Hank raises an eyebrow and after a short pause, continues the questions, "How fast were you going?"

"A good speed."

"Which translates to…?"

I twitch my shoulders, not even shrugging all the way before I realize it's a horrible idea.

"Dunno," I growl. "Just leave it, will ya?" My stomach does cartwheels –even that hurts.

"Where does it hurt?"

I give him one of my best 'fuck off' snarls, "Everywhere."

Hank exhales sharply, "Let us take a step back: how did you fall first when you had the accident?"

"My back, a bit to the right side."

A few expressions flit across Hanks face –namely contradicting relief and apprehension- before it becomes unreadable. He scribbles more notes down on his tablet. The elevator door opens and Hank turns to me.

"Take a shower then meet me in the medlab. I shall disinfect your wounds shortly thereafter and we may discuss which tests will be necessary."

I grunt a reply and move carefully towards the shower off the side of the medlab. Peeling off my mud-caked clothes is a challenge and once I do, I see the dark blotches of bruises coating my back and side for the first time.

Yep, that explains a lot.

The warm shower would be pleasant but for the soap and water burning my raw skin and not being able to move much. I rinse off the lather and turn off the tap. I dry myself with the towel before wrapping it around my waist. The only clean clothes in the area are a standard issue pair of sweatpants.

Close enough.

I throw them on and toss the towel in the nearest corner while the tortured creature on the other side of the mirror stares back. I give the small room another once-over for a shirt of some kind in vain before limping towards the door.

The electric sliding door to the medlab opens near silently when I get close enough. The first thing to catch my eye is Jean's fiery hair reflecting the bright fluorescent lights.

"Hey red, how's she doin'?" I ask. The sound of my voice startles the two former telepaths in the room. Ain't often I manage that.

John looks away as soon as he sees it's me, but Jean stares at me like a deer in headlights for another few tense seconds. Then she shakes her head and clears her throat.

"Elise? Oh. Yeah. She's asleep and her temperature is almost back to normal."

"Good," I nod.

Elise is swaddled up in blankets, a set of too-huge sweats, and a tangle of medical wires, including an IV. Her face is relaxed, calm, with a few rogue strands of hair framing it. I gently touch her hand and wish her good dreams - or none at all.

"Logan," Hank says.

I glance over and quietly say "Yeah?"

Hank gestures towards the CT machine.

"Fine," I growl.

I go over to the machine and grit my teeth as I sit on the table. Hank looks over my bruises and writes something down on his tablet. He drags the stylus across it quickly, as if to underline or cross something out.

"Logan, I'm about to lightly press on different areas of your back. You need to tell me what hurts the most."

I scowl at him, but that's the extent of my protest. It's not invasive and I can still tell him to fuck off when I want to. As wonderful as the idea of more pain sounds, it won't last and it might get the living throw rug to back off a while.

He touches near my left shoulder. I flinch reflexively.

"Did that hurt?"

"No," I hiss. The flinching sure as hell did, though.

He continues poking my left side for a little bit.

_Don't flinch. Don't flinch._

Just then, he decides to poke around the middle of my back, near the right kidney but not quite. White hot agony rushes through me and clouds my vision. I growl more than a few curses and try to focus my attention on not popping my claws – which are already unconsciously extended into my hands from stress.

Hank pulls his hand away.

"I apologize; I shall cease this at once. However, now I am cognizant of the locus to further examine."

The agony begins to trickle away but I'm still breathing heavily as I glare at him. Damn fucking right you're sorry.

He hands me a cup of water and the same types of pills he gave me yesterday. I finally relax enough to allow Hank to do the blood draw. As he does, I notice my knuckles are splotched purple with bruises. Hank's attention is still on the blood draw, so I discreetly press my knuckles against the table. Yep, that hurts.

Blood draw done, Hank bandages my arm and the rest of me. The disinfectant stings, but not too bad, all things considered. Still, the thought of ripping off the bandages isn't pleasant.

"Lie down," He says.

I gingerly lie back and Hank pushes a button on the machine, making the table move. I lie still long enough that Furball probably has enough pictures of my insides to fill up the _Louvre_. Finally, he presses the button that lets me escape the claustrophobic tube.

"You may stay here for now or lie down on one of the beds by your sister," he says, popping a memory card out of the computer.

I slowly make my way over to the bed next to Elise. She's still sound asleep, so I decide to pass the time by watching Hank and Jean.

Hank puts a memory card in the side of the life-size scan viewer screen.

"_Welcome, Dr. McCoy. Loading images," _the mechanical female-like voice says. It sorta sounds like the voice of the danger room. Probably is the same.

Hank zooms in on the first picture. A bit hard to tell with how bright the adamantium is, but something doesn't look right. There're small splotches of brightness over where a few of my organs're supposed to be – I think that one's my liver.

Hank circles the area I'm looking at and calls Jean over.

"It appears to be contusions to the liver, and the right kidney to a lesser extent. Both organs are swollen."

"I agree," she says, flipping through some more images. "Thankfully, none of these scans show heavy internal bleeding. "

"Yes, thank goodness. We will require more blood work after the transfusions are done to be certain, however."

Wonderful. Can't wait.

Jean sets up another machine to run the bloodwork. "Well, from the tests that have come back already, you're getting to be very anemic, which would partially explain why those bruises look so bad."

"Hey, ya think _this_ is bad, you shoulda seen the other guy," I joke.

Jean quirks an eyebrow and smirks, crossing her arms. Does she know how hot she looks when she does that? She has to, considering she used to read minds. Maybe she's doing it on purpose. That's a satisfying thought.

"That's funny. Elise told me you ran into a guard rail on your Harley," she says.

Speak of the devil, Elise starts tossing, turning and mumbling something incomprehensible in her sleep. Jean turns around to put up the bed rails before she falls and hurts herself.

"Where were we? Oh yes, do you have a preference which arm I hook the transfusion up to?"

I grin, "The left," so you would hopefully decide to lean over me to hook it up. Damn, I'm glad she can't read my mind anymore.

She quirks her eyebrow again and thinks for a moment before pushing the small cart to the other side of my bed. Her touch is soft and gentle, so much so that I don't notice at first that she has to stick me twice.

"I'm sorry," she says, her face reddening.

I glance down at the small bruise forming. "Don't worry, darlin'. A kiss'll make it better."

Before she responds, the sound of a glass cabinet door shattering makes everyone turn their heads. Elise is tossing and turning worse and John is trying to wake her up, holding her wrist down so he hopefully won't get hurt. I feel the faint tingle indicative of one of her 'lighter' forcefields just before my bed gets pushed back a foot or so and Jean has to jump back. I try to get up, but before I can unhook the IV, I get pushed down again with another forcefield.

A moment before she opens her eyes, Elise blasts John back a few feet and onto his ass. Much more surprised than actually injured, he scrambles back up to help calm her.

"It was just a dream, love," he says and her breathing starts to slow from heavily hyperventilating to only mildly hyperventilating.

Hank and Jean crowd around her but she makes it clear with a scowl and a raised hand, likely accompanied by a forcefield, she doesn't want them anywhere near her.

"Go 'way!" she growls. Her expression's much less threatening with two glistening tears running down her cheeks, but she doesn't seem to notice. "An' wha'swith the bed rails? 'M not f'ckin' two!"

"Elise, be rational. You could have been injured if you fell out of bed," Hank says.

"So? Hittin' the floor us'ly wakes me up!"

John strokes her hair, "Except then you panic even more than usual trying to escape the covers you've been wrapped up in."

Okay, to be honest, I'd always assumed the occasional loud _THUD_s down the hall in the middle of the night were something else.

"But-" Elise is cut off by the door opening.

"Is this a bad time?"Ororo asks, carrying two trays of breakfast. Kurt's just behind her juggling another three.

"Not at all, Ororo," Jean says, helping her with the trays.

"Thanks 'Ro, elf," I say.

The food smells good. The scent of fresh bacon makes my mouth water. Even Elise perks up.

Kurt and 'Roro take seats near Elise and I. Hank sits in front of the viewer, still scouring the images for something, and Jean sits near Hank to help him.

As soon as the food's in front of me, I realize how hungry I am and practically scarf it down, slowing to savor the last few bites.

"That was excellent," I tell 'Ro.

She smiles, "I thought you'd like it."

"Mmmm, chili cheese omelet," Elise says. "Thanks." She's a lot more agreeable now that she's being fed, which is very often the case.

'Ro, Kurt, and I engage in some small talk, with Elise occasionally throwing in her two cents. It's not long before the awkward silences get longer and the two decide it's time to go back upstairs. Ro's hand brushes against mine as she takes the empty tray.

"Well then, I'm bored. Wanna play a game?" Elise asks. She's got her head propped up with one hand, elbow resting on the tray table, and her other hand fidgeting with wires and blankets.

"Which one?" I ask. Don't care much, really.

"I'm guessing truth or dare is out?" She giggles.

Now there's an understatement if I've ever heard one, "Why would I want to play _that?_"

"We've already had so many fond memories of it, like the time one of the students dared me to make a perfume bomb in your room that smelled like something a French hooker would wear. Ah, good times."

"A _kid_ told you to do that? Which one?" I growl. I had thought at the time that she was just being a royal pain in the ass and thoroughly abusing my qualms against killing her. A _kid_ thought that up? I guess I really don't give them enough credit.

Hank turns around momentarily, "When did this occur? I do not recall this particular story."

"Oh. Yeah. That's because you and Professor were at a conference or something at the time. It was frickin' hilarious until he retaliated," She grins impishly then turns back to me. "And no, Logan, I will never tell you and you can't make me."

"How exactly did you retaliate?" Hank asks me.

Elise butts in, "Well, Hank, y'see what happened was Logan was already bitchy from being woken up to that, and then he came downstairs and I started teasing the hell outta him. Long story short, after chasing me for a bit in the woods, he caught me in a headlock and sprayed the stuff in my face. Which, for someone with enhanced senses, is akin to spraying anyone else with bear mace. And that's why you came home to Logan brooding on the couch."

Jean chuckles and shakes her head, "I think I vaguely remember the aftermath."

"So, Logan, what about that game?"

"No."

"Chess it is, then!"

"Check-and-mate," I say, leaning back in the bed.

Elise practically jumps out of hers, "I WIN!"

Huh?

"The hell? No you don't. I killed your king."

She stares at me like I'm missing something obvious, "Yep. I won!"

I smack my forehead in disbelief. Does adamantium poisoning cause brain damage or is she really just dense? "Do you even KNOW the rules of chess?"

"Of course I do, but you know my motto," She says.

She has a lot of 'mottos.'

I throw my hands in the air, "Which one?"

Elise grins wider than a Cheshire cat, "If at first you don't succeed, redefine success."

"Good for real life, maybe, but-" I don't get to finish my rant, because Elise cuts me off.

"But what if my king was a tyrannical, unjust monster? What if I _let_ him be killed to bring peace to my kingdom? Now New Eliseland will be taken over by the late-but-not-missed-king's mistress, the black-square bishop. With his death we are one step closer to making the world a better place."

What. The. Fuck.

I blink twice before replying, "None of that made sense, I still won. Besides, women can't be bishops."

Elise points to her black-square bishop, "This one is! Her name is Maria. ALL HAIL QUEEN MARIA!" and flails her arms, almost getting caught in the wires.

I stare at her, "Yer shittin' me."

Elise suddenly stops spazzing out. She folds her hands calmly in her lap and raises her eyebrows slightly. "Yes. Yes I am. See, my real goal was to spell out my initials in braille. Your rook made the final dot. Look."

Yeah right. I look anyway to humor her. She turns the board so her side faces me and points to where it's supposed to start, and where it's supposed to end. _ECH_, it says, clear as anything if you know what to look for.

"Has anyone ever explained why they don't often play games with you?"

"No," She thinks about it for a few seconds, then furrows her brow and tilts her head. "Why?"

"Forget I asked."

Still another couple of hours before Hank says the transfusions will be done. I lay back and try to get some shut eye.


	5. Queen Mab

Chapter 5

[A/N: As of tomorrow morning, I'll have little to no computer access for the next two months (at least). I'll have one of my own by mid-august, though. I'll be writing over this break – just on paper rather than a keyboard. If I take a while responding to reviews, please don't be mad! I'll respond as soon as I can.

Well, enjoy! (Bonus points to anyone that catches the glaring literary reference)]

"Queen Mab"

Before I open my eyes I can smell the blood. I'm back in Elise's car – or what's left of it.

The passenger's side is smashed in almost beyond recognition. Elise is torn up, blood dripping from her nose and lips. I struggle against myself, but I can't move. All my limbs feel like lead. I guess it don't matter much anyway.

I'm too late. She ain't breathing. Her cheeks and lips have gone blue and she's still as stone.

Guess I can only hope for the small favor that she didn't feel it. Hard to tell from the carnage, but her expression's calm, like sleep.

I don't remember how it happened. Must've got distracted somehow.

_I killed her._

"'m sorry," I choke. The effort sends a shooting pain through my chest and a warm, wet feeling over my middle. I glance down to see a piece of wreckage has me just under the ribs. Moving just made it tear deeper. Darkness tries to smother me like a blanket, but I fight against it with all my might. There isn't much left, though. I gasp for air but can't get any; I'm drowning. Fear sinks its talons in me for an instant as my heart races… then slows.

I'm exhausted, my vision blurring as I stare out the shattered windshield. I hear sirens in the distance. There's a bright red light.

And then only black.

* * *

><p>I'm in an office. Sitting behind a battered and worn desk a woman picks up a phone, sighs then sets it down. She thumbs through a stack of papers and sighs once more. Her expression is as time worn and dull as her desk. Her hair, the consistency color of steel wool, is as depressing to look at as her sighs are to hear. It takes her three more cycles of the same ritual-shuffle, sigh, sigh, shuffle before the old bat picks up the phone again. Ya'd think she's got sticky stuff on her fingers for how slow she presses the buttons.<p>

I yell, "Hey, lady. Where the hell am I?" She doesn't respond, not even a flinch.

The other end picks up and I can hear both sides of the conversation clearly.

"Hello. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Ororo speaking."

"This is the Westchester County Morgue."

I hear 'Ro's breath hitch, "Yes?"

The lady tries to sound sympathetic but I can tell she's used this line too many times before, "I'm sorry, but there has been a terrible accident. One of the cars had plates registered to your address. I'm afraid someone will need to come to identify the bodies."

BodIES? Plural? "No. NO! Why are you lying to her? I'm RIGHT FUCKING HERE!"

"We will come right away," her voice cracks with budding tears. She hangs up.

Where's Elise? She probably woke up like I did. Or she will wake up. Jeez, she'd be terrified if they stuck her in a body bag or something. Why am I not in one?

How did I wake up? I don't remember. Maybe I had some brain damage or something. But that would mean I'm healed now. I distinctly remember being told my healing factor wasn't worth shit. Was I lied to? Possibly. Wouldn't be the first time.

Against my will I follow the woman to another room. It stinks of death, disease, and hospital. I watch the woman move a sheet to uncover my sister's face. She still ain't moving, but I wait anxiously for her to take a deep breath and open her eyes. Bet it would scare the shit outta the management here, I think smugly.

"It's such a pity when they're so young like this," She sighs and replaces the sheet. "At least she passed instantly from head trauma."

I say to myself, "She's really gone," and suddenly feel weak. Empty. I want to scream, to try to fight against the feelings that seem to be tearing me apart from the inside out.

_You killed her. You killed her. You killed her._ The words wrap around me like a python, suffocating me.

Oh god.

Why?

Hysterical, I reach for her ashen-blue hand as if remorse could fix everything. I can't. I have no hands! Only empty space where I'm standing!

Terror burns my gut as I watch the woman move the sheet from the body laid out on the other table. The blackened, congealed blood contrasts sharply with the pale ashen-blue skin and metallic ribs.

It's me! There's no mistaking it.

I howl, writhe and flail, anything to escape this terrible incubus. But I'm trapped, forced to witness the horror and suffering etched in Ororo's, Xavier's and John's faces as they identify our corpses.

* * *

><p>The sound of wood creaking pulls me out of my hell. I see myself, feel my own sweat bead and run down my chest, sting my eyes, taste it's saltiness on my lips. My heartbeat thunders in my ears and I'm panting. I feel my racing pulse. I ain't dead. Relief sweeps through me like a cool breeze and I murmur into the night, "Nightmare. Just a dream. It ain't real."<p>

Above my head I hear a guttural, "Ya sure 'bout that, runt?" Barred fangs and feline eyes reflect the minimal light leaving Sabertooth looking like an overgrown Cheshire cat.

Why the fuck's he on the rafter?

Next thing I know, he has me pinned under his weight, his massive hands strangling me. "Ain't so tough now, are ya."

I let out a choked growl and his grin only gets wider. His claws dig and tear into flesh, drawing blood that trickles down to my chest.

_SHINKT!_ I deploy the claws and embrace the animal within. There're no words from either side, only snarls and growls. I free a hand with a swipe to Creed's thigh. His grip on my throat tightens and my vision starts to darken from lack of oxygen. I take a desperate swing at his face, trying to slice the twisted smile right off.

He dodges, his moves as graceful as a panther, and slams a fist into my gut. Agony rips through me but I beat it down with adrenaline. With a roar, I take another swing at him.

He blocks and with a punch to the head, leaves me reeling. He hops off the bed and looks me over, laughing!

I jump up and try to slash his chest but I'm too slow, too weak.

He yanks my wrist and twists it in ways it was never meant to go. I howl in pain and he laughs again. I snarl and struggle against his grip, ready to dislocate something if that means I get to gut this bastard.

_Pain, blood. Mine. Revenge. Escape!_

_KILL! KILL CREED!_

"GRAAAAAH!" I don't throw my full-clawed punch to his fleshy abdomen. Blood pours through my fingers.

I freeze. The scream of pain is high pitched and feminine.

* * *

><p>I open my eyes again. I'm still in my room, but with a huge difference. Elise looks at me wide-eyed, one hand deflecting my claws with her own and another hand covering a bloody abdominal wound. Her breathing is sharp, maybe not pained, but deliberate.<p>

"Elise?" No! Not again! I sheathe my claws immediately and try to jump up.

She sheathes her own claws and puts her hand on my shoulder, trying to stop me from helping.

Please don't do this!

My voice cracks. "Let me help you, I'm sorry!" Then I bellow, "Somebody! Hank! Need help."

She glances at the growing blood stain on her t-shirt "Calm down, it's just a scratch."

Christ! I gotta do something. I jump up and take her free hand. "No, it's not! I'll carry you if I have to, dammit. We're getting help!"

She wrenches her hand out of mine and puts it on her hip. "Well whadja want me to say, 'pox on both your houses'?" She winces and stares at my hands, "Logan, you're bleeding."

"And you aren't?" Here she is, bleeding out and it's my fault and she's concerned how _I'm_ doing?

"Look, look at your hands," she orders.

Blood pours through unhealed gashes between my knuckles. Where I'd been sitting there're pools of blood seeping in the mattress, drops of it leading from the bed to Elise.

No, blood's still dripping on the floor around her! She's noticed it, too, looking up with her brows furrowed and head tilted to the side. More blood drips and spatters on her face and hair.

"What the-!" The crimson rain picks up. It starts to rain from her, not just around her. Her white hair reddens and sticks to her face.

The rug is saturated and the blood starts rising like water. Blood gushes from my knuckles like waterfalls and the level only rises. I stand in my bed, leaning against the wall for support. Even so, the blood's up to my thighs.

I grab her hand and try to pull her onto the bed. The blood-rain becomes a torrent, rising impossibly fast. It slicks our hands making it harder to hold on, even with both hands. She's slipping!

The floor and the bed melt away. We're floundering in a bottomless crimson ocean. I try to swim towards her but I can't see a damned thing for the blood in my eyes.

"Help!" Her piercing scream shreds my heart as she struggles to reach for me.

I'm frantic. My arms ache, my chest burns from the effort of swimming through clotting gore. Distance is measured in inches but I get closer, barely touching her fingers.

Come on. Just a little further-

No! No! The crimson tide yanks her away, just out of my grasp. Exhausted, she goes limp and succumbs to the undertow.

I'm losing her! She's drowning. It can't end like this.

"Elise! No-" A wave crashes over me to drown my howl.

I struggle to stay afloat but the sanguine sea sucks me into a vortex. I choke and gasp. Lungs aching for air, I can't fight it. I can't even save myself.

Senses go dim. Blackness rushes through my mind as sure as the blood rushes down my throat. A lone air bubble escapes my nostrils. Inside my mind, my scream of agony and grief is silent and final.

* * *

><p>I wake up screaming. I'm sitting up. Pant. Open my eyes. Look 'round the room. Over in the furthest corner from me are Hank, John, 'Ro, Chuck, and- holy shit! That's Elise!<p>

"Elise- You were- I-" In a flash, she's kneeled by the bed, completely fine 'cept for the near tearful concern on her face. I force myself to stay still, sheathe my claws. Not again. Can't let it happen again.

Her voice is a calm, sweet whisper, "I was what, Logan? It was just a dream. Calm down. We need to go to the medlab now." She looks me in the eye, but her eyes keep flitting down to the bed.

I follow her gaze and see all the blood in the sheets. Maybe I should be worried, but I just wanna sleep. Dizzy. Eyelids gettin' heavy.

Relaxed. Feels good.

"Nuh, I'm goin'a sleep"

Elise sounds anxious, her voice getting distant, "Stay awake, Logan. C'mon, you can do it. Stay awake- Logan? Guys, I need-"

Sleep.


	6. Plotting

Ah, long time no post. Computer issues have been resolved (yay!) I still won't have a for-sure posting schedule simply because I don't have a for-sure life schedule. That, and sometimes my attention span wears out when I have time to write. I'e found speech-to-text helps a lot, though. Speaking of which, for those of you following the story but not me as an author, I'm about to post a little companion bit for this as its own thing called "Adventures in Insomnia".

As always, much thanks to my beta MidLifeCrisis.

Happy reading! Thanks for those who reviewed the last installment.

EDIT 9/10/12: FFN did something screwy and unexpected with the line breaks. (Hopefully) fixed now.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: Plotting<p>

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Elise trills.

I stretch against the tangle of wires and IV tubes, try ta sit up. What happened? Why'm I here?

Been out for a while, Elise has a novel she's mostly through and more books stacked by her side. How many hours'd that be?

Head's foggy. Why's it so damn hard ta think?

"Hey 'Lise," I say, slurring like a drunk.

Her eyes sparkle over charcoal circles, "Hank sure didn't skimp on the post-stitches narcotics. You, big brother, are stoned," she giggles.

"R'lly?"

"Oh yes," she puts a hand on my shoulder. "Big time. Get some rest."

"Why donchu?" I ask.

"Can't. Not one bit all night," After a pause, she picks up a small wooden hoop with a web in the middle and feathers on the sides and hangs it on the bed. "Oh, and I made this. Sweet dreams."

My eyelids get heavy and I smile. She smiles gently back.

"G'night." I whisper and close my eyes.

~ooOoo~

I wake up and wonder: how much of all that was real? I search my surroundings for hints.

I'm in the medlab. There's a start. So that shit about adamantium poisoning's real. Heart monitor proves I'm alive, though.

Hands are bandaged and I'm hooked to another transfusion which means the part about bleeding out wasn't a dream.

Elise ain't here, neither are her books. My heart sinks until I remember.

_"Sweet dreams."_

The dream catcher. I reach for it and can't help but smile at the handmade trinket.

I hear the doors opening and jerk my head around – it's Chuck.

"Hello, Logan," Chuck says as he rolls up next to the bed.

"Hey," I grunt in reply.

"How are you feeling?"

Well that's a dumb- Wait. I actually feel halfway decent. Those must be some damn strong pain meds in that IV.

"Bit better," I say, sitting up.

"Excellent," he says with a smile. "I'd like to speak with you about a potential plan to defeat the High Evolutionary."

Now that piques my interest.

I raise an eyebrow, "Yeah? What's the gist?"

"Since mutants are the only ones affected, we will need to compile a group of mutates. Without the use of Cerebro, we are limited to those we already have contact with."

I nod, already forming teams in my head.

He continues, "Scott suggested two teams, one for a frontal assault on the High Evolutionary, one to find and destroy the mutant power inhibitor while the High Evolutionary is distracted."

"That could work," I say. "One problem, though, how much do we really know about this guy?

He has a space station, hates mutants, and figured out a way to shut off all mutant powers on earth. Other than that, we don't know shit."

"I agree, being blind in such a situation puts us at a great disadvantage."

"Yeah. That's why I think we should see if we can somehow get a computer separate from the mansion's network and get that kid- What's his name, C- Cy… Cypher, that's it. Get him to try ta break into the station's computers and transmitter. See if he can shut off the thing remotely; buy us some time. If he can't, see if he can get some info, schematics, maybe."

Chuck strokes his chin, lost in thought, "I see. I will oversee that promptly."

As for the two teams, guess I'll have to suck it up and accept help from people I ain't too familiar working with, but that sure as hell don't mean I'd trust 'em to lead.

And as much as I don't like him, I'd be damned if I don't admit One-Eye's a good leader.

"Leadership-wise: Scott first, Rogue second in command for frontal assault squad. For the search and destroy, 'Ro and Kurt, respectively. Powers or no, I ain't gonna trust a newbie in charge."

Besides, it ain't like they'd be helpless: 'Roro's lost her powers before and not only beat Scott in one-on-one, she led the whole damn team.

Xavier nods again, a slight grin on his face. "And the rest of the teams?"

"For frontal assault, I want Illyana, Peter Parker, and that one from the Savage Land called Whiteout."

"The savage land mutates have attacked the X-men on more than one occasion. How do you suppose they will respond to us reaching out for their help?"

"The ones I'm thinking of may have been part of the attacks, but that don't mean they ever wanted to be. Hell, Rogue attacked the X-men 'fore she joined us."

"That was a very different situation, Logan. Still, I will do everything in my power to contact Whiteout."

"Good. For the Search-and-destroy, Lupo and Leash from the Savage land and Deadpool. He may be batshit crazy, but he knows how to get a job done."

Might hafta pay him off, though. Or wave a few burritos in front of his face.

Chuck raises an eyebrow, "I trust your assessment of the situation."

Now here's the million dollar question: "So once we have this team together and trained up a bit, how exactly do ya plan on shooting 'em into orbit? We ain't exactly NASA."

"That we aren't. However, Hank believes that with help, we can make some modifications to the X-jet to make it fit for minor orbital travel."

"What about your Shi'iar girlfriend?"

He sighs, "Without my psychic link, I've been unable to contact L'landra."

"Ain't Richards and his lot got an old spaceship stashed somewhere?"

"Perhaps, though I've been unable to reach them as well. I do not believe they are currently in The Baxter building."

Okay, scratch those ideas.

"But if Hank's working on the jet-"

"Scott will be picking up Moira shortly."

To do what, play bridge? "You can't be serious."

"Moira MacTaggart is an excellent doctor. You and your sister will be in good hands."

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms. No way in hell is he giving the job to someone else now, 'specialy not to some woman I barely know.

"Logan, we have more than one doctor but we do not have the luxury of more than one inventor. Be rational."

I raise my other eyebrow.

"Jean will be the main doctor, but she will need a couple of extra hands," Chuck says.

Elise seemed to like Moira alright last time we met. Maybe this could work.

I relax my pose but not my stare, "We'll see how this plays out."

"If this is settled, I have other matters I must attend to. Glad to see you're doing better."

"See ya, Chuck."

He leaves and I waste no time taking off all the tubes and wires. The monitor's screech is just as bad as nails on a chalkboard so I switch it off. I don't even get halfway across the medlab before Hank rushes in. He looks me over and relaxes visibly.

"Good afternoon, Logan."

"That late already?" I ask.

He nods, "You lost a vast amount of blood. Gave everyone quite the scare. I had to give you three blood transfusions merely to keep you out of severe hypovolemic shock."

Somehow, I remember that. I remember everyone's looks of shock and fear. Not distorted, probably from the adrenaline rush of the nightmare. Everything was crystal clear until the moment before I blacked out.

"Thanks, Hank."

"What are friends for? Speaking of which," He says. "I've been working on something in my lab that may be of interest to you. Would you care to follow me or shall I bring it here?"

"Ain't a problem; I'll come with ya."

~ooOoo~

When we get into Hank's lab, he pulls out two black, hinged devices with a little blue electronic light on the side.

"What're those?" I ask.

"Myo-electrical impulse generators," he beams.

Myo-what? "English, Hank."

"When placed on the skin, they send a faint electrical impulse to the corresponding muscle group causing them to contract or stay contracted. These flexible braces will fit over the flexor digitorum profundus and flexor carpi radialus muscles. If you wear them while you sleep, they should prevent a repeat of last night. The impulses are faint enough that it will be painless, though you may feel tingling or warmth at the site. This should be enough, but just in case I implemented a failsafe – a stronger setting employed only when you attempt to eject your claws. It will feel like nothing more than a static shock, but may be just enough to wake you up."

Okay, my eyes glazed over for a minute there.

"So, lemme get this straight: If I wear these, I can't pop my claws and if I try to I get zapped?"

I know the egghead means well, but it sounds like something people put on misbehaving _dogs_. Ain't sure I like the sound 'a that.

"It's painless, and in addition to keeping you from hemorrhaging uncontrollably again, it may be enough to wake you up. Maybe. It's still your choice, however. I will not have my feelings hurt if you decline."

Still uncomfortable 'bout it, I ask, "Can I try it now?"

"Of course." He wraps the brace around my arm and cinches the velcro straps closed. "Now, I want you to try to eject your claws."

Well, here goes nothing. I close my eyes and brace myself.

My arm tingles. I try again. Still nothing but the tingling. My claws stay put.

"I'll use 'em. Thanks."

Hank smiles, "You're welcome, friend."

I think I'll use 'em after all this is over. I don't need a repeat of- Even though it never happened, I shudder at the thought.

"Hey Hank, how's Elise doing?"

"With any luck, asleep", he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I gave her a drug I concocted that takes her unique physiology into account and sent her to bed after I caught her pacing, talking to herself, and about to take too large a dose of Nyquil."

I quirk an eyebrow, "That bad, huh?"

He nods, "Lack of sleep tends to cause lapses in judgment and many dosages are determined by weight. I'm sure you can imagine the problem presented."

Fairly certain your average dosage chart don't take eighty-plus pounds of metal into account.

"Oh," I say. "I'm gonna check on her, then. See ya, Hank."

"Wait, Logan. Before you go: remember not to get the bandages wet, they'll need to be replaced later, and remember to inform Jean or myself immediately in the event of worsening symptoms-"

"Sure Hank," I say, only half-listening as I leave.

I take the elevator up to the dormitories soon as I'm outta the lab. John's got his hands full with a lunch tray, so I hold the door for him. He motions for me to follow.

I stand by the bed. Elise is curled up, bunching up the covers around her. She's awake, kinda. She scoots closer to John when he sits down. A faint smile forms on her lips as he wraps an arm around her.

Are broth and crackers enough? She already looks too thin. But she refuses that, too. Only the bottle of Gatorade.

"No' now. I wanna go back t' sleep."

John concedes and kisses her forehead. He pulls back and frowns.

"Love, I think you have a fever."

I don' care, jus'-"

"I'm going to get Jean."

"John, wait-" The door shuts to cut her off. She huffs, crossing her arms, and grumbles, "Ya don' hafta leave, ya could text her y'know."

She still looks and sounds groggy. She's got dark circles under her half-open eyes.

I sit next to her; she looks up.

"I'll stay with you, if you'd like," I say.

She grins, scoots closer, and lays her head in my lap.

"Thanks."

For about thirty seconds there's silence, only broken by Elise coughing. I rub her back and eventually she stops.

"Logan?" she asks, voice cracked.

"Yeah?"

"I can't help but wonder, what are you like drunk?"

I blink. "What?"

"I sa-aid-"

I cut her off, "I know. _Why?_"

She shrugs. Being sick doesn't stop that playful spark in her eye from turning up, not by a long shot. "'Cause I figure it has to be even funnier than Scott drunk. That guy can_not _hold his damn liquor. B'sides, ya came home looking like you had a good time," she teases.

I raise an eyebrow as sarcasm drips from my words, "Yeah, 'cause hangovers are the best."

"Hey, had to beat reruns of 'Batman'," she groans.

Just then, John comes in followed by Jean with a medical kit. Elise springs up to sit, arms wrapped around her knees.

"John tells me he thinks you have a fever," Jean says. John nods and sits with Elise again.

Elise shrugs, "I wouldn't know."

Jean takes out one of those head thermometer things and brushes it against Elise's now sweat-coated forehead.

The thermometer beeps twice and Jean looks at it. She doesn't seem too happy about it.

"One-oh-two-point-six," she says.

That doesn't sound good.

Jean frowns, "Adamantium poisoning can cause fevers, but not one this high."

"What's causing it, then?" John asks.

"An infection of some sort that needs to be identified and treated immediately. Elise, you need to be under careful observation since you're immuno-compromised to begin with."

"Look, if it ain't gonna do me in before lunch tomorrow, I'm goin' back to'sleep. Still hazy'n' shit," She lays back down and pulls the covers over her head.

I tug it off her face, "Sis, it's serious enough you should get it dealt with now."

Please don't try'n put it off. You're looking worse by the minute.

She groans and shifts to the edge of the bed. "Fine."

"Dammit," John smacks his forehead and looks up again. "Jean, is there any way a skin infection could cause a fever like that?"

"Yes." She turns to Elise, "Do you have an open wound? Any cuts or scrapes since Sunday?"

Elise looks at John and scrunches her nose, "What, _that_?"

"May I see?" Jean asks.

Elise huffs and takes off her sock, "I got a rock in my boot. Not particularly impressive."

Jean goes to look at it, "It's hard to tell just looking at it whether it's infected since your immune response is so weakened. Does it hurt?"

"I don't _know_. Not to be rude, but you're asking this of the one who won't realize she stuck her hand on the stove 'till she smells burnt flesh. Didn't even know I had it 'till Logan pointed it out"

"No other scrapes?"

"Not that I'm aware."

Jean packs up the things she brought, "Then that's our best bet. You'll need to come downstairs."

Elise rolls her eyes, "Jeez, if a little scrape like that could be life threatening, it's a wonder people aren't _extinct_."

~ooOoo~

"Woah, woah, woah. Hold the phone, I _know_ there's a fucking pill for that!" Her voice is about two octaves too high when she notices Jean filling a syringe with antibiotics. "Tetanus was one thing, but you can't tell me there ain't a pill for _that_."

Jean sighs. By the look on her face, I can tell Elise's broken-record argument is getting' real old real fast. But, since Jean's one of the nicest people around, she sucks it up and tries to placate her anyway.

"Don't worry, Elise. This is going in your saline drip," she says as she puts the medicine in the bag.

Elise winces, "You _had_ to remind me about that."

Elise's hair's sticking to her face and neck. Sweat starts to darken the fabric of her shirt. Jean seems to notice it, too and takes her temperature again.

"John, could you run up and get a washcloth?" she asks.

He nods and leaves. Jean hands Elise some pills and a cup of water.

"Take this. We need to get your fever down."

"But you just gave me something for that!" She glares at the pill cup.

"That was ibuprofen. You can take acetaminophen as well without drug interaction."

"Well I still don't- Holy shit!" She jumps back in the bed, tensed like a coil, and stares down something near her.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"I- uh," her eyes flit back and forth between me and whatever she was staring at. "Nothing. Nevermind." She snatches the pills and gulps them down, still glancing warily to the same empty spot.

It's weird, her getting freaked out over nothing – well, the kind of nothing that isn't needles. Thankfully, I know the easiest way to make her talk is to piss her off.

I chuckle, "That wasn't a spider, was it?"

Immediately, she throws the empty paper cup at me and her voice matches her indignant pose, "I ain't afraid of a stupid bug! It was a trick of light, is all."

Okay, so if it's a trick of light why are you still acting like it's about to attack? I almost say.

Jean frowns and presses keys on a keypad on the wall. The wall opens up and out comes a tub, already filling with water. She walks over to Elise and starts unhooking the tubes and wires.

_Swoosh_.

"H-hey Jean I got the-"

"Perfect. Once I finish getting these off, put her in the tub and we'll get the equipment after that."

I get up and start untangling the vital sign wires as Jean unhooks them from the sensors.

No longer spooked, Elise just looks confused and out of it. John scoops her up and places her in the tub then wets the washcloth and drapes it over her forehead. Jean and I haul the IV drips and monitor over to the tub so Jean can start hooking everything up again.

Once everything's hooked up, Jean sighs, "That's all we can do for now. We'll just have to wait."

John takes Elise's hand and kisses it. He holds her pale hand in both of his as we watch her calmly drift off to sleep.

~ooOoo~

Moira arrived three hours ago. She's stayed in the back office reading our files, for the most part. I've heard she's one of the best, though I s'pose it wouldn't be too hard cos' it ain't like there're too many docs who can claim mutants are a specialty. Ain't sure about her being here. Friend of Xavier's or no, she and I are still barely acquaintances and without the ol' sniffer, I'm at a real disadvantage here- practically _blind_.

I don't like it.

Guess in theory we're safe, but I've never been a 'theories' guy. Can't be Mystique since her powers are kaput. Unless Magneto is working with the High Evolutionary. If that's the case, we're all fucked. Paper cut in a shark tank fucked.

"Logan? You okay?" John furrows his brow.

Back to reality, I realize I'm tensed tighter than a piano string. I relax and grunt, "Yeah, wonderful."

Two hours ago, Jean said Elise's fever was low enough for her to stay in one of the medlab beds for a while. Between the pain meds, illness, and exhaustion, she's been out like a light for some time. 'Bout half an hour ago, Jean gave the go-ahead on bringing Elise back to her room. John didn't want to wake her, though.

Now, he's just giving me that concerned, pitying look he's perfected by now. I swear sometimes the kid's a Xavier in-training.

His eyes ask me if I'm sure, if I need anything. He'd probably jump through a hoop if I asked him. Well, now I have a decision: do I ignore him and just-

_Grrrrumble_

My stomach sounds thoroughly pissed with me. Prob'ly 'cos I haven't eaten anything in –Jeez, since yesterday.

There's that look again, full force.

"Needed t'go upstairs anyway," I mutter.

Standing up brings a whole new realm of unpleasant sensations. First, the room does a cartwheel. My stomach follows suit. I grip the back of the chair for stability. At the same time, nearly every genre of pain radiates from my back and joints so intense it makes a punch to the gut seem like a gentle caress.

John springs to his feet and almost tries to keep me balanced, but he hesitates and stays a few inches back. Guess he's learned.

"Um, Jean-" He starts.

No, no he hasn't.

Jean looks up from the tests she was running and rushes over, "What's wrong?"

I scowl at John while answering, "'M goin' upstairs."

Jean gives me a once-over and bites her lip. "Maybe you should stay down here. John, could you-"

"No. Watch her." I hit the button to open the door.

John rushes up and tries to block my exit. "But Logan, you-"

"Fuck off, John," I growl though teeth. I shove him to the side and start down the hallway fast as I can without the pain being unbearable.

"Don't bother me unless things go further south."


	7. Pet Peeve

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I wanted to get this done sooner, but as usual, life happened.

In honor of Fragility being a full year old (they grow up so fast!) I made a shiny new cover for it which I will post as soon as the image uploader stops giving me grief and actually uploads the image. If I can't get it to work soon, I'll just post a link to it. (Edit: I found out what the problem was: I was trying to upload a 120-something megabyte picture. For a comparison, the average mp3 song is 3 megabytes. D'oh!)

Thanks to my beta MidLifeCrisis for beta-ing this. :) Happy reading!

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><p>Agony. Woke up to it some time ago. Feels like an eternity.<p>

The beef jerky I'd eaten yesterday'd been fighting with my system for hours before it finally gave in. My gut, I mean. Then I got some sleep, but it sure's hell wasn't much.

Dare not move, so dizzy and nauseous. Feels like I'm on a fucking roller coaster. But the position I'm lying in's getting more uncomfortable and damn-right painful by the second. No, _painful_ can't do the stabbing, aching, burning sensations justice. Not even fucking close.

I reach for the pill bottle. Ain't that far away on the nightstand. That said, its hell just trying to resituate and stretch to get it. Almost-

The bottle tips over and rolls off the nightstand and into the middle of the floor. I growl every curse, made up or otherwise, I know in a pathetically weak, raspy voice.

The room spins. I lie back down and debate whether to try to reach for the trashcan just in case. My cell starts ringing and jumping on the table. Whoever's calling can just fuck off 'cause I ain't answering.

It rings a few more times, but I try to tune it out. As if this shit weren't enough, the beeping and buzzing starts to drill a hole in my sanity.

Someone knocks impatiently on the door. No kick involved so it ain't my sis.

"What do you want?" I fail miserably at trying to cover the pain and weakness in my voice.

Moira cracks open the door, "I dinnea see yeh up yet. How are yeh holding up?"

"Never been better," I say through my teeth.

She steps into my room and comes towards me. Normally, I'd be beyond pissed about the invasion of privacy, but I just gave my last fuck when the pill bottle rolled off my nightstand.

"On a scale of one tae ten, what would yeh rate yer pain?"

Definitively, I say, "Three'n a half."

She blinks, "We seem tae have a difference in definitions."

Really? Never woulda guessed.

"Buckshot t'the chest'd rate about a two."

She nods, brows furrowed, "Aye, I suspected as much. Have yeh taken anything for it?"

"No," I glance over to the toppled pill bottle.

She follows my gaze and picks up the pills, "I have a better idea." She puts them back on the nightstand, "First, can yeh look at me, Logan?"

I do. She gets up close with a small flashlight and shines it in on my face. She frowns, "Yer jaundiced, lad. Yer liver's in a sorry state."

"_Great,"_ I what I needed ta hear.

She opens the panel to the sink and scrubs her hands before putting on a pair of blue gloves. She unstraps the brace things Hank made – forgot I even had 'em on - and cleans an area on the inside of my elbow. I anticipate the syringe before I see it. 'Fore I can ask what it is, I see the bottle's for morphine.

Nope. Ain't gonna make a stink about that. The medicine disperses through my veins and tones the pain down from fucking excruciating to sorta tolerable.

"Jean and I will be needing to discuss treatment options. Yeh'll be needed in the medlab shortly. I'll find yeh when we're ready," she snaps off the gloves and throws them in the trash.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed. Still dizzy and nauseous as hell, but at least I can grab the pills and my water now. Maybe some grub, too.

"Think I'm gonna get somethin' ta eat," I say.

"If you see yer sister, tell the lass weh'll be needing her as well."

The elevator may be further from my room than the stairs, but it's better than someone seeing me struggling with the stairs. Or the pain associated with navigatin' 'em, for that matter. Why the hell'd I pick the last room on the hall?

Oh, that's right. Because being so close to the stairs or elevator would mean being subject to the noise of a high-traffic area. My obsessive need for privacy just bit me in the ass.

_CRASH!_

Sounds like it came from Elise's room. I take a quick detour to check it out. Gotta make sure she ain't hurt.

The door's cracked open and I enter. John's hunched over cleaning up the impressive mess of a spilled pile of dishes and whatever was on 'em. He glances up briefly, nods a hello, and goes back to what he was doing.

"Need help?" I ask.

"No. Thanks. J-just lost my balance."

I grunt a reply. Kinda figured he wouldn't want help.

He's a very private person, and I can respect that. Ain't like he ever hides anything, though, just doesn't volunteer extraneous details and no one really asks. Unlike a certain other mind-reader I know, he ain't ever nosy. He lets things be unless he has ta do otherwise. Like to think we have something of a mutual understanding 'bout each other in that sense.

But there's one thing I've never understood: the guy can follow any field instruction to a T without complaint but freaks out if too many people are in a room. Sometimes goes so far as ta not have dinner with the rest if there's a full house that night.

I look around the room. It's really the first time I've paid serious attention to the setup here. It looks like it had been meticulously organized, but only recently disheveled. The closet door is open at an awkward angle with a half-full laundry basket jutting out. Dirty clothes form a moat around the basket. The bed sheets are a small mountain near the center of the mattress. Despite the bit of clutter, the room somehow retains the feel of rigid organization.

Off to one side are two filled CD cadies. I look through some of the names.

"John. . . Eminem, ain't that a candy?"

He looks up again, faint grin on his face, "No. And I can't stand him. The other rack's mine."

I keep looking over Elise's collection. The jumbled mess of artists includes everything from pop to metal to classical, even some Bob Marley.

"Have you ever noticed how her collection looks like a music store threw up on it?"

He stifles a laugh, "Yes, actually. She used to organize the albums by color," He pauses to let it sink in, "Not joking. But now she just throws them in the slots at random."

I chuckle and take a gander at his caddy. Lots'a classic rock, obscure stuff. Don't look like most of his music was made earlier than twenty years ago. John catches me looking at it.

"I used to like pop and modern stuff, but telepathy kinda turned me off from it."

I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head, giving him the universal _'how so?'_ look.

"You know how if you hear someone singing a song you like _really badly_ it ruins it for you?"

"Yeah."

"Imagine hearing twenty people at once all misremembering the same song in different ways, some only remembering two or three lines and then playing it in their head over and over again."

I chuckle, "Guess I can see that being an issue."

By the CD's is an acoustic guitar case gathering dust. Over on the other side of the bed is the carved wooden box that Elise keeps her knife collection in and an antique desk. On the desk are a bunch of framed pictures. Among them's the portrait Pete drew as their wedding present, a picture of Elise with some students on a field trip, and one of a woman I've never seen before. The picture's old and a bit beaten up. She has long black hair and a slight olive tone to her skin.

Huh. Looks sorta like John. Probably a close relative.

"Th-that's my mom."

Don't need enhanced senses to recognize the all-too familiar sound of loss. I just nod. Words wouldn't be right.

He nods back and looks down. "The other guy had a heart attack, swerved into oncoming."

Before now, he looked a bit down, but in an instant that all changes. His face contorts in anxiety and terror, exaggerating the paleness and dark circles and somehow making him look more human.

He sits on the bed and looks up at me, "S-since my family found out I'm a m-m-m-mutant, y-you and Elise have been my only f-f-family."

He sighs and looks to the floor. Not defeated, but certainly battle-fatigued. He looks up, but not to me, "Is there anything else I can do?"

He startles when I put a hand on his shoulder, "Yer doin' the best ya can. If there were anything else, you'd be doin' it already."

Speaking of which, I look down at the mostly cleaned mess, "Hey, why doncha go ask a favor from Rogue or someone? Go spend some time with Elise."

He nods and gets up. For a moment his mouth twitches into a weary smile. We leave the room; John goes on to the stairs and I finally make it to the elevator.

Elise and Bobby are hanging out in the kitchen when I come in. Bobby's eating some cereal and Elise is standing on the counter to get to the top shelf of a cupboard. Her long hair is unbraided, draped over the sweats she's practically swimming in and masking most of her face.

"Oh, come on. Who put my cookies on the top shelf? I'm 4-foot-8, people. That's just cruel!"

How-Why?! "Lemme help you," it's more a command than a suggestion.

She looks back and grabs the central bar splicing the double-door cupboard for balance. The wood creaks. Can't tell if she's playing dumb or didn't register my tone when she asks, "Do what?"

I don't fucking know, get down? Of all the times to pull stupid shit…

While I'm staring at her, shocked, Bobby continues the conversation, albeit a few steps behind, "Oh yeah, you did. Last week. So Molly wouldn't eat them all again or something."

She gingerly turns herself around and sits, already stuffing a cookie in her mouth. Spraying cookie crumbs, she says, "Well that was dumb," and continues eating.

No shit, Sherlock. At least now she's just sitting on the counter so I ain't panicking over it anymore. In fact, I try to scrounge up my own breakfast.

I grab some leftovers from the other night and glance back to Elise, "So, what made you settle on cookies?"

She tilts her head and grins, much the same expression she had when trying to bullshit a chess win, "People eat cereal for breakfast." She gestures to Bobby, who appears to be zoned out again, to prove her point. "The way I see it, cereal is dry, grain based, sweet stuff; cookies are dry, grain based, sweet stuff. Add milk and what difference is there really?"

Speaking of, she uses a forcefield to bring the milk and a cup over to her. She takes a gulp and continues, "Besides, I really wanted oatmeal raisin." She frowns and stares absently at an empty corner, nibbling a cookie.

Between bites, I ask, "Did it ever cross your mind to use a forcefield for the cookies?"

Her sudden frustrated expression as she looks at me, the cookies, and back to me is a resounding 'she didn't'.

She scowls - or pouts, one of the two, "Did it ever cross your mind to let your side burns die with the fifty's?"

Molly enters, bouncy as usual, "Hi Elise!" and waves.

Elise slides off the counter. She flashes a grimace and sucks in a breath when her feet hit the floor, but manages to crack a strained smile, "Heya Moll-Doll. How've ya been doin'?"

She sighs, "I lost to Jubilee at arm wrestling. Usually I only have trouble with beating Rogue or Peter."

Cute kid, but never been the most observant. Speaking of, if I wasn't sittin' where I am, I mighta missed John coming in.

"Awwww," Elise hugs her. "Here, want a cookie?" She pulls a cookie out of the jar and offers it to her.

Molly smiles, "Thank you," and nibbles the cookie. When she's finished, she takes out a purple fleece hat and a button. "Hey, um, the button on my bunny hat popped off again. Can you fix it, please?"

Elise takes it and frowns a little. After a moment, she looks back up to Molly, "I'll try, but I might be busy later, 'kay? Might take a while to get it back to ya."

"Okay," Molly smiles and hugs her again. "Thank you. See ya later," she says as she leaves.

Soon as Molly's outta sight, Bobby chuckles, "I don't think it's her eating your cookies that's the problem."

Her indignant expression is priceless.

"What? I'm a sucker for cute kids, so sue me," she says, crinkling her nose.

Bobby smiles and shakes his head before cleaning up his area to leave. Once he's gone, Elise uses the wall to steady herself to walk over to us.

John jumps up to be her crutch. She tightly furrows her eyebrows, her indignant look shifting to frustration.

"Are you sure you don't want me to make you something to eat?" He helps her balance to get up on the stool.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks," still nibbling cookies, she leans into John's shoulder.

"Hi, Logan," Kitty says, startling me.

I practically jump outta my skin from her sudden closeness. I reflexively turn too fast to face her. Why the fuck does this have to keep happening?!

"Oh, by the way, Kitty's there," Elise says offhandedly.

I glare at her and she smirks.

I quick compose myself and look back at Kitty, "Hey."

She starts out by looking me in the eye like usual, but her gaze quickly trails off as she speaks, "Didn't know if you had anything planned for later, but some of us were going to watch the hockey game this afternoon and wanted if you wanted to join? Haven't seen you around a lot lately."

Not wanting to get her hopes up in case I can't, "I'll think about it."

She smiles gently and turns to Elise and John, "We'd like you two to be there, as well. Sorry for yelling at you the other day, Elise."

She grins weakly and bats the air in front of her, "'t's all good. Don't worry 'bout it. Ya feelin' any better, by the way?"

She looks better, at least. Still a little pale with dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise much better than last time I saw her.

"Yeah…" she trails off and looks down. "Thanks for asking. I guess I'll see you all later, then."

She leaves. The kitchen is silent other than the quiet click of silverware – most from me eating, but some from Elise fidgeting with a fork while slumped over the breakfast bar. She puts Molly's hat and the button on the table and stares at it. She picks up the button and holds it like one might hold a hatchling: tenderly cupped in both her pale, bony hands.

"W-would you like me to get your sewing kit?" John asks.

"No," She says, distant.

She barely looks up when Scott, Jean, and some students start crowding in for breakfast. After one more look, the button and hat go in her hoodie pocket.

I look over my mug of coffee to a better morning pick-me-up: Jean's making reaching for the eggs a display of pure art. Her toned form bends fluidly as tall grasses in a light breeze. Her dark jeans mold around her curves in ways that are illegal in some places. But hey, I've never been a stickler for the la-

Elise jabs my arm with the back end of the fork just so I turn to see her roll her eyes over-dramatically. I scowl at her and she raises her eyebrows for a look both challenging and condescending.

I shrug her off and continue observing the scene. Jean turns so I have a brief glimpse of her face before handing some cheese to One-eye and getting out a frying pan. She's got faint dark circles, but it ain't detracting at all from the full picture. Even sleep deprivation looks good on her, not that I could imagine anything that wouldn't. Especially those costumes that leave nothing to the imagination. Some may call them impractical, but I can think of a few worthy applications.

When she's wearing that skin-tight spandex and a faint, musky hint of attraction, it's almost proof of a god. The rest of the world be damned, the only explanation for those curves and fiery hair is divine intervention.

But soon, she leaves and I hafta to recall her from memory, but I can never do her justice.

Elise flicks me with her fork and sighs loudly, "I think it'd be good for you if there was a long-term romantic someone in your life. Why do you suck so bad at picking girlfriends?"

I scowl, "I don't."

And I really didn't ask you, dammit. For once, just leave it.

She rolls her eyes again, "Yeah, ya do. Here's one example: your current obsession happens to be in a steady relationship and in the years you've hit on her, hasn't budged an inch from her guy. Why doncha let me help? I could be your wing-girl!"

"Like last time?" My eyes narrow.

There's a damn good reason I don't always like to go places with her.

"Hey, I didn't know she was a guy," she says. "But you have to admit she was hot."

I raise an eyebrow. _Really?_

"No. And actually, I was referring to another time."

"Oh, that?" She coughs. "It wasn't that bad."

"You told them I was gay!" I growl.

"You SO could've done better than them. I did you a favor."

"Like Hell you did!"

"Hey, Scott was mad, too," she says, hands raised in defense.

"Because you told them we were together!"

She snorts, "Pfft. Jean thought it was frickin' hilarious. Besides, it's not like I told them 'Yes, he's housebroken. All you need to do is put down puppy pads and-"

"ELISE!" I growl.

Her lips twitch into a smirk, "Is it a bad time to tell you I've said that before?"

I pretend to bang my head on the table, having no productive way to express frustration. Sometimes, Elise, dealing with your bullshit makes adamantium poisoning seem almost like a pleasant stroll through the park.

I quickly remember she really only does this out of boredom to get a rise outta me and focus my anger into an icy glare.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't be that way," she scowls, then softens her expression. "Back to the you-needing-a-girlfriend thing, maybe you need to set the bar elsewhere."

I don't let up on the glare, raise an eyebrow.

"Not lower, elsewhere. See, your bar is six-foot up in Bangladesh, but I'm telling you to put it six-foot up in Milwaukee. A woman can be gorgeous and smart without being a redhead and or Asian."

"And? Or?"

She grins, "From what I can gather about your preferences, ginger Asian seems to be at the top of the list. And if that's really what you're looking for, maybe you _do_ need to set the bar lower."

I shake my head and finish off my coffee. Sitting's getting' real uncomfortable now. I was ignoring it before, but I twist just the wrong way to have the pleasure of a hundred knives in my back. Still try ta suck it up.

"Logan, Elise, weh'll be needin' yeh now," Moira says, peeking in the room.

John helps Elise down from the chair. I brace myself with the edge of the table as blood rushes from my head and pools in my feet. The room greys out and wobbles.

Blink. Blink. Little better. Feel a hand on my arm.

"Logan?" Elise asks quietly. Her face contorts in a frown.

"'m fine," I say.

'Bout as slow as watching grass grow, my vision goes back to normal. Elise lets go slowly, skeptical. We all go towards the elevator at the end of the hallway, Moira holds the door. The hallway seems longer than normal and keeps stretching the further we walk.

John has his arm wrapped around Elise again keeping her steady.

"Sure you don't want me to carry you?" John asks.

"Thanks, but I can still walk," she says, but then quickly adds "_for now_" under her breath.

John nods and rubs her back. She immediately yelps and recoils.

"S-sorry. F-f-forgot."

"Don't worry about it," She says and brushes her hand against the wall stepping into the elevator.

* * *

><p>Moira's dialogue is based off of RhionnonUK's interpretation of her accent.<p> 


	8. Introductions

A/N: Thanks to my betas "The Replicator" and "Jeanniebird" and everyone who read and left reviews!

I've written the scaffolding for the rest of the chapters, there should be about 20 (depending on how I split them) total. So, we're almost halfway there! Now to start working on chapter 9. *cracks knuckles*

* * *

><p>Chapter 8: "Introductions"<p>

Waitin' for the blood results to come back, but it ain't like we don't already know what they'll say. That don't look right. Too mucha this, too little'a that. More pills, more trips down here, yada, yada, yada.

The peak of the morphine's quickly becoming a distant memory. Moira seems to've taken an interest in me, which mean Jean's been dealing with Elise. And Moira, get this, she's stubborn as a fucking bull. No, she'd stare that bull square in the eye 'til it backed down and hid. The plan was s'posed to be Jean treats me, Moira treats Elise. Life goes on or maybe it doesn't, but at least everyone gets along in the meantime. Like always, Jeanie's just out of reach.

In other words, it's just one big, steaming cluster-

"Auugh! Dammit!" The scream of pain from the bathroom instantly derails my train of thought.

The medlab is silent 'cept the strained hiss of what sounds like curses.

Jean knocks on the bathroom door, "Elise? Are you alright?"

She spits back, "Do I fucking sound alright?!" followed by another stream of half-intelligible curses.

Jean's reply is smooth and calming: "May I come in?"

Elise gives up, "Whatever."

Jean fiddles with the lock and it opens. Hasn't worked right since John had to take it apart Monday when Elise decided to lock herself in there.

Elise whimpers softly and uses Jean as a crutch. John helps Elise back onto the bed and she lies on her stomach, face buried in the pillow. Jean takes the sample cup, about a quarter full with dark brown-red liquid, over to the machines to analyze it.

I don't need a machine to tell me its prob'ly mostly blood. Explains that kind 'a pain. I know: been in a few scuffs that landed me with busted up kidneys. They really are a bitch ta heal.

Oh. Wait a minute. _Shit._

That's prob'ly gonna be me in a minute. Can't remember the last time I took a leak and last I heard, my kidneys were getting' real fucked up real fast. Didn't Hank say somethin' 'bout it bein' bruised from the accident?

"No more needles. I'm done with this bullshit," Elise growls at Moira, who's trying to clean a spot on her arm. "Done!"

Just to be difficult, Elise holds her pillow between herself and Moira.

I sigh, "Elise, it really ain't that bad, 'specially considerin' you prob'ly can't even feel it. I don't see why you always flip out about it."

If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under already. She clenches her teeth and huffs, but doesn't say anything back.

Moira hands me the sample cup. I slide off the bed and make my way to the now vacant bathroom.

Instead of relief, agony rips through my back. Barely diluted blood trickles into the cup.

It take a second to catch the breath that pain just kicked outta me, then I put the cup on the counter and carefully lie back down. I look over to see if Elise is doing any better.

Christ, is she still pouting?

"Elise?"

Her shoulder twitches at the sound of her name, but she doesn't answer.

I sigh, "Elise, are you okay?"

"Fuck you," she grumbles, muffled by the pillow she's buried her face in.

That's what I thought.

I try to get comfortable as I can, but that ain't sayin' much. Regardless, I start to feel real tired and don't even try to fight the urge to shut my eyes.

I wake up prob'ly just a few minutes later when I hear a machine printing something out. Jean grabs the papers and looks them over. She goes over all of them at least twice before handing them to Moira.

It takes Jean a moment to collect her thoughts before she comes over to us, "The toxicity is progressing much quicker than originally anticipated. Moira and I will be discussing how to proceed. There's a good possibility you will need dialysis to relive stress from your livers and kidneys."

Dammit, not another machine.

Elise looks up, "Will I be able to sleep through it?"

"For the most part, probably," Jean says.

"Okay, whatever," she says, burying her face in the pillow again.

Jean hands us pill cups and water again while Moira starts another round of transfusions.

Elise examines the pill, "Ah, this stuff. It has the potential to make you stoned off your ass."

I take mine and look over to her, "Do I even want to know why you know that?"

She laughs self-consciously and downs the pill and water, "Nope."

"Hey John," She asks. "Couldja bring Molly's hat down, please? I'm gonna be stuck down here for a while, 'n all."

"Sure," he says and kisses her. "I'll be right back."

"Thanks."

When he gets back, he gives her the hat and her thread box and sits back down.

It takes her a good five minutes, at least, to pick out a thread to use, finally settling on a bright yellow. She unravels a good bit and breaks it over her thumbnail. She struggles to thread the needle for almost as much time as it took her to choose a thread and eventually lets John do it for her.

When she finally does get to sewing the thing back on, she quickly has to stop and rub her hands from pain, "I- I guess I'll do it later."

All of a sudden, the phone rings and Jean snatches it, "Hello… Yes… Mmhm… That's great. Thanks, Scott."

She sets the phone down, smiling a little. Wonder what that was about?

"The teams are here," she says, visibly relieved.

A few minutes later, I'm starting to feel better. Pain's goin' down and I have a bit more energy. Seems to be working just about as well for Elise, too, 'cause she ain't in such a foul mood anymore.

"Logan," She asks. "I'm kinda bored. Wanna play a card game?" She reaches in her front pocket and holds up a deck.

"Sure."

"Any game," she starts coughing, and then continues like it never happened. "In particular you'd like ta play?"

"Not really," I say.

She pauses for a moment, then a devious grin forms across her face, "Ever play Mao?"

Cautious, I ask, "No. What is it?"

Her grin just gets wider, "It's the game where you have to figure out the rules as you play."

John pushes a table between us and starts shuffling the cards, "The basic idea is that you need to get rid of all your cards, but that's all I can tell you."

Elise says, "Well _I_ think you've already said too much. May I be the dealer?"

"Here," he hands her the shuffled deck.

"C'mon, Logan, it's fun. Trust me," she says.

I sigh, "Okay, fine."

She deals us each seven cards and puts the rest in the center of the table. From the top of the deck she draws an eight of diamonds and puts it face up next to the pile. We all pick up our hands.

Well, if this were poker, I'd be fucked. Ain't sure what constitutes a good hand in Mao, though.

John lays down a three of diamonds. Apparently you're allowed to play cards of the same suits. I only have one diamond – the queen – so I lay that down.

Elise breaks the silence and hands me a card, "Failure to declare dessert."

"What does that even mean?"

She grins and hands me another card, "Talking."

"Point of order," John says. "Did you really have to pull out your dessert rule on his first game?"

"This game is about learning through experience. It shouldn't be too hard for him to figure out. Point of disorder," she lays down a two of diamonds.

John shakes his head and lays down a two of clubs.

So you can play either the same suit or the same face value. No clue why my queen wasn't allowed. '_Failure to declare dessert'_. What the hell kind of rule is that, anyway? I lay down a five of clubs.

"Ace of clubs," Elise says as she lays it down.

I push her a card from the deck, "Talking."

John pushes it back to me, "Bad call."

So, you're allowed to talk saying what type of card it is? But not saying it seems to be fine, too. Maybe it's only for aces? Queens, too, maybe?

John lays down the king of clubs, "Long live the king."

Maybe you have to say something for all non-number cards? Lessee, I have a jack of clubs, but I don't know what you're supposed to say for it. I do have the king of spades, though.

"Long live the king," I say, laying it down.

I think I figured it out 'cuz Elise looks kinda annoyed.

"Hearts," she says as she lays down the jack of spades.

John lays down the three of hearts. So that's what jacks do.

Well, I _could_ lay down one of my hearts, or I could change the suit again to hopefully something Elise doesn't have.

I chose the latter and lay down my three of clubs.

If it's any indication, her smug look is gone. She draws a card for herself. John also draws, and then lays the three of spades down.

I lay down the ten of spades. Elise lays down the four of the same suit.

"Marie Antoinette," John lays down the queen of spades.

Wait. Dessert. Cake. I call bullshit.

"Point of order," I say. "Elise, 'let them eat cake'? That's not even what she really said."

"Doesn't matter. Only you and Kitty have figured it out, and you might not've figure out all the intricacies of the rule. So there. Point of disorder."

I lay down a nine of spades. Elise and I both only have four cards left. John's got two.

Scratch that, Elise draws another card.

"Ace of spades. Mao," John says.

Is that the way to say you only have one card left, or something you have to say for the ace of spades?

Damn. Don't have any I can play. I draw the ten of clubs.

"Ace of diamonds," Elise says and sets the rest of her hand face-down in front of her.

John lays down his final card, the jack of diamonds, "Round over. Want to play again?"

"Sure," I say.

He shuffles all the cards and re-deals.

~ooOoo~

"Failure to declare suit," I push Elise a card.

After a moment, John passes her another, "Failure to show southern hospitality."

"Dammit, John."

He chuckles and passes her another, "Cursing."

She sighs loudly and says "Thank you. Very. Much," and lays down a card.

We've played about eight rounds by now, so a lot of rules are in play. Neither of them has figured out my rule about diamonds following spades yet.

Before we realize it, the transfusions are done and Jean lets us leave. But not before reminding us about telling someone about new or worsening symptoms or something like that.

The second the medlab door closes behind us, Elise says "If I never see the inside of that place, it'll be too soon."

I nod in agreement. Maybe, assuming we survive all this, I'll hafta take a trip. Don't matter where, just _out_ and miles away from technology. Especially of the medical sort. If we don't …

Well, I guess we won't have to deal with it then, either.

Looks like just about everyone's here, gathered in the common room. The Savage Land Mutates are in a corner keeping to themselves: Lupo looks up at us as we enter; the two others are talking quietly to each other. They don't look too happy to be here. Wonder what they had to be bribed with.

All the X-men who can help are here, too. Ileana's all by her lonesome, silently watching the scene. 'Ro, Chuck, and One-eye are all having a pow-wow off to one side, while Rogue's chattin' with Spiderman.

Deadpool pops out of nowhere, "Here I am to save the day. I knew you guys missed your token human!"

Elise sucks in a breath sharply and appears to hold it while speaking. Her fingers twitch and her tone is cold, barely-restrained rage, "Logan, why is _that _here?"

"'Cos I told Chuck ta bring him."

"You WHAT!?" She growls, and then lowers the volume to a loud whisper. "He's fucking insane and he's gonna get everyone killed. _That_'s our plan of action?"

"He gets the job done. Don't know what you're so worked up about-"

He interrupts me, "Long time no see, guys! What's shakin'?"

He tries to put his arm around my shoulder but I growl and shrug him off, so he tries to do the same to Elise.

Tries.

"Touch me and we find out how fast you regrow limbs, got it?"

He laughs but keeps his distance. Like I tried to tell Chuck: crazy, not stupid, "Well, aren't you a doll. That reminds me, how's your scar, Lizzy?"

Lizzy?

She snarls, "How's your face, Wilson?"

"Gorgeous as always," he poses with one fist against his waist and his other hand pretending to brush back hair.

She scoffs, "Whatever. Keep your damn mask on, there're children here."

She stalks off to the opposite corner of the room and sits with John to let her anger stew like a pressure cooker. Her furious glare flits between me and Deadpool.

Xavier wheels himself to the center of the room and says, "Good afternoon everyone," and gets acknowledged with assorted nods and grunts.

"I'm sure you all know why you are gathered here."

Another pause, more nods.

"As it is probably the first time most of you have met, why don't we introduce ourselves? Start with what you wish to be called and your abilities or specialties."

Off to the side, Wilson's already making friends with a black-haired woman in a red and black corset, spiked dog collar, gauntlets and skin-tight pants.

He puts his hand on her thigh, "Hey there, beautiful. Whadaya say we-" He stops mid-sentence and slaps himself before walking across the room and sitting quietly.

Everyone, Chuck included, looks over to her, who folds her hands in her lap and smirks.

"I'm called Leash. I can bind anyone to my control."

That description right there makes me think the outfit wasn't one of her best ideas. From Wilson's major fuck up, I know I wasn't the only one thinkin' that. But unlike Wilson, I ain't about to be a jackass about it.

"Please release him," Chuck says.

She sighs and rolls her eyes.

"How'd I get over here?" Deadpool blurts.

Next to Leash is another woman wearing a costume that looks like a mix between Moon Knight and Emma Frost – every inch of her curvaceous form's covered in a shiny white skin-tight fabric and she wears a white hood and half cape to cover her face in shadows.

"Call me Whiteout. I temporarily blind people."

So two of the three Savage Land inhabitants are bombshells. Fairly certain more'n 90% of the time superhuman powers equal superhuman beauty. Ain't exactly a scientific study, but I wouldn't mind doin' the research. Regardless, they're probably the most outright powerful people on the team.

The last Savage Land mutate looks like a grey-blue werewolf crossed with a bear. He sits at a good vantage point, able to see all the exits without being backed into a corner. His eyes shift to each person and he tests the air.

"I am Lupo. I have feral senses and command animals."

Gotta have a feral on the team, that's a given. Enhanced senses are perfect for search and stealth.

Next in the circle is Kurt. "Nightcrawler: combat and acrobatics," he says.

"Cyclops: tactician."

"Majik: sorceress."

"Ah'm Rogue. Ah got flight an' super-strength."

"Spiderman: strength, wall-crawling, web-slinging, et cetera. Pretty self-explanatory."

Still wish the Fantastic Four weren't MIA, Richards and the rest woulda made a great addition t' the team. But Parker's a good kid. Little cocky sometimes, but he knows what he's doing for the most part. Worked with him a few times And then, there's Wilson…

"Deadpool: merc with a mouth. Skills include killing things with knives, guns, more knives and explosives, surviving anything- including low sales, and always being mistaken for Spiderman by stupid people. I have a copy of Wolverine's healing factor so I think that makes us like distant cousins or something. Also, I'm great at parties."

Dammit, Wilson.

I expected a response like that from him. The others- well, they're a bit shocked. Everyone's staring uncomfortably at him and he's just eatin' it up. 'Cept for Elise, who's still acting like he ran over her puppy. Wonder what that's all about?

'Ro breaks the awkward silence, "Storm: leadership and combat."

Xavier folds his hand, "That appears to be everyone. Now to brief you all on the mission-"

Whiteout looks at me, "I remember _you_," then points to Elise and John, "but who are they?"

"Don't mind us. Just watchin'," Elise answers, trying to stifle a cough.

Xavier looks to us and then continues, "The remainder of this conversation will be better suited in the war room. Shall we?"

Everyone gets up to leave, most are quiet.

"Sittin' this one out,' eh? What for, Wolvie? Almost outta hair gel?" Deadpool teases before leaving.

"Go fuck yourself."

Hey, just because he's a useful member of the team don't mean I hafta put up with his shit.

Elise grumbles something and leaves in the opposite direction.


	9. Something Vital

[A/N:] Thanks to my betas Jeanniebird and The Replicator. Please R&R!

Now to do exams... *shudder*

* * *

><p>Chapter 9: "Something Vital"<p>

Ororo pours some boiling water to steep her tea and hands me my coffee.

"Thanks," I say.

She smiles gently, "You're welcome."

I take a sip, almost don't notice the metal taste anymore.

"Do you think the team will work well together?" She asks.

"Everyone's 'bout as experienced as you can get," I reply, and with a grin: "B'sides, you can whip them inta shape if they need it."

She chuckles, "Let's hope that won't be necessary."

It'd be fine, though, 'Ro. You'd do great.

Bobby runs in, "Um, guys? Elise is about to rage out on Deadpool and John needs help."

'Ro and I look at each other before jumping up and following Bobby to the day room.

Oh shit.

I don't need enhanced senses to tell me how close to the edge Elise is now. She's half-way in an attack crouch, all muscles tensed and ready to fuck Wilson up.

And the fact that the stance she's in _should_ have her on the floor in agony is just a testament to how pissed she is. Her murderous rage has taken semi-tangible form in the weak forcefields coming off her in waves.

"Patience. Patience? I may not live to see the end of this week and you want me to have _patience_?!" She yells.

John's desperately trying to hold her and Wilson apart so it doesn't escalate further but it's plainly obvious John's effort won't matter in a few seconds.

"Help. S-someone. Please?" He begs.

Wilson, whatever ya did, you fucked up big time. If beating the shit out of you wasn't gonna harm Elise more than you, I'd get John out of the way and leave her to ya.

As it is, I try to get over to her in time to restrain her.

At the same time, Wilson's just making it worse for himself, "C'mon Lizzy, you know I'm just messing with ya, old pal. Have a sense of humor!"

I'm too late.

"_Humor this!_"

In one graceful move, she ducks under John's arm and punches Wilson in the gut with not only her fist, but a forcefield that shakes the room and throws Wilson into the far wall, knocking him out cold.

The room is silent as Elise takes an unsteady step forwards. She pauses and touches her hand to her upper lip. When she draws it back, it's covered in blood.

"Aw shit," she whispers as she collapses. John catches her.

"Somebody get help!" he yells, panicked.

Ororo runs off to get someone and I kneel by Elise and check her pulse.

I exhale with relief. Her heart ain't given out yet. She's still breathing. I notice her skin's kinda yellow, though.

Dammit, Elise! Don't scare me like that.

"Let's get her to the medlab," I say.

John nods, scoops her up, and rushes to the elevator.

"I'm okay, by the way. In case anyone was wondering," Wilson says.

I ignore him and follow John to the medlab. Wilson's right behind me.

"Wow, what happened?" He asks. "I didn't even touch her."

I turn to give him a warning glare, "Better not've."

He insists on coming in the elevator with us and kicking his ass out would only take time that doesn't need to be wasted. Soon as the door opens, John carries Elise to the medlab and lays her on a bed.

"Why would I hurt an old friend? Where's the fun in that?" Wilson asks.

I shove him away from the medlab door, "Explain later. Go."

"Geez, you're almost as grouchy as when Barry writes you," he says as he leaves.

Crazy fucker. Maybe I shouldn't've asked for him. This is already too much shit surrounding one team member.

Moira and Ororo brought Hank away from his work to help. He washes his hands and snaps on a pair of gloves.

"What happened?"

"Deadpool said something and it pissed her off so she threw him into a wall, then her nose started bleeding and she passed out," John says.

I'm really curious as to what he said. She may have a shorter temper than usual today, but she just doesn't act like that. Something happened. It wasn't just Wilson being an ass.

Elise groans and holds her forehead, "What can I say? The lunatic makes for a good punching bag."

The Furball starts examining her. Shines a flashlight in her face, puts the stethoscope to her back, "I implore you to abstain from such activities."

Her eyes narrow and she looks over her shoulder, "Y'know what? He's a pain in the ass and I lost my temper. Which has been short lately, because in case it missed your notice, _I'm not feeling well._"

He lets her jab slide and keeps examining her, "The point remains… Elise, can you carry your file to the counter?"

"Huh? But I'm- Oh, you mean-"

"Yes. If you please."

Elise inhales sharply, "Here goes nuthin'."

And nothing is about how much happens. She's obviously straining to concentrate, one hand to her temple and another shaky hand outstretched in the direction of the file. Sweat forms on her brow.

She does manage to pick the file up – briefly. It's 'bout as shaky as her hand and she moves it a few inches before dropping it and leaning back in the bed, exhausted.

She coughs and says, "Felt almost as bad as Rogue doin' her thing."

Hank sighs, "Indeed. Your body currently seems to be unable to cope with the stresses of adamantium toxicity as well as generating enough bio-energy for prolonged forcefields."

"Well then," Elise says. "I guess it'll be a frigid day in Hell 'fore I go invisible again – that can be a strain on a good day."

She tries to relax, but I know it ain't easy. I sit in a chair next to her.

Her pale skin's gettin' ta be an unnatural yellow, a huge contrast to her white hair. It's only been a handful'a days, but her face is gettin' thinner, gaunt. She's got bruises all over; her lips are dried and cracked.

I've seen corpses that looked healthier.

She's tryna hide the pain. I can see it in the way her closed eyes tighten slightly, the way her lips twitch into a grimace and she tries to smooth it all out again.

Hank notices it, too. He frowns and puts something in the IV line. She relaxes and her breathing slows to that of sleep.

Can't ask her what happened now, I'll hafta do it later. Maybe. Fer now, I'll go interrogate Deadpool.

I find him upstairs, sharpening a sword and whistling happily.

"You mind explainin' why my sister tried to kill you?" I ask, arms crossed.

He looks up and shrugs, "PMS? She always was kinda moody… almost as bad as the writer!"

That's true, but not the point. Wait a minute - writer? What the fuck?

"Cut the bullshit, Wilson. If ya ain't gonna answer that question, how do you know her?"

"Oh, we go WAY back. We were in adjacent cells at one point. Good times, good times," He trails off.

"Cells?"

Oh shit. He's not talking about what I think he's talking about, is he?

"Yeah. She tried to heal me once. Didn't work out too well for either of us."

"How so?" I ask.

"Soon after, I fell in love with this really hot babe and I wanted Lizzy to meet her, us being friends and all."

I blink. Well, that ain't what I expected to hear.

"Was she… jealous?"

"No. I don't think that was the issue." He poses overconfidently, fists on waist and head held high, "Although, I certainly wouldn't blame her."

"You're full of shit, Wilson," I say, leaving.

I'm done with this bullshit. I guess I'll hafta ask Elise about it when she wakes up. Maybe she'll be stoned and more willing ta talk about it.

I wander up to my room, a few students stare, concerned, but I ignore 'em.

I step into the shower. The road rash ain't healed but at least it's scabbed over. But lathering the soap over my body makes me find some raw spots I don't remember having. I rinse, dry off, and take a look in the mirror, wiping the condensation off it with the towel.

I'm shocked by the mangled reflection. The bruises ain't healing well. Or at all. My eyes're goin' yellow, same with my skin. I brush my teeth to get the taste of blood and metal outta my mouth and hit a real sore spot. I open wide and pull back the corner of my mouth to see a big scrape on the inside of my cheek.

How the hell did I do that? _When_ did I do that?

I sigh and run my fingers through my still-wet hair. A clump falls out and sticks to my fingers.

You know what, just fuck it.

I get dressed and head back downstairs to check on Elise. When I get there, I find Wilson and Moira chattin' outside the medlab.

"Moira," I say. "I don't want him in there. He's only gonna cause issues."

She takes me aside, and in practically a whisper says, "Logan, he has a working healing factae'. He may be able tae buy yer sister an' yerself some more time."

She's lookin' bad enough she's just gonna hafta deal with herself if this has any chance of helping.

"Fine. But if he causes any more trouble," I warn, leaving the promised threat up to his imagination. We all go in the medlab together.

"Lady, I'm glad to help some buddies out, but I already know this won't work," Wilson says.

"How dae yeh ken?"

He shrugs, "It didn't work last time."

I'm still curious about this 'last time'.

"What's he doing in here?!" Elise asks.

Moira turns back to Wilson, "Would yeh be opposed tae having a blood draw?"

Elise huffs and crosses her arms, upset at being ignored. Or just upset in general.

"Nah," he says.

Elise pipes up, "Wade, listen to me. Listen to me _carefully._ If you get near me or my family again, I will _personally_ rip out your intestines and strangle you with them. Got it?"

The whole room stares at her in silence.

Dammit Elise, I ain't gonna let you get hurt again. So zip it.

"You think I'm joking," she says.

~ooOoo~

After Moira'd done what she needed, Wilson left. A little bit ago, I offered ta play chess with Elise to pass the time.

Mostly I just wanted to get her to calm down and talk, though.

"So whydja try to kill Willson?" I ask. "I mean, I realize he's a royal pain in the ass, but what'd he do?"

She frowns and stares intently at the board, "I'd rather not talk about it."

Well I ain't done talkin' about it just yet.

"He said somethin' 'bout a woman."

"That crazy fuck was hallucinating!" She hisses.

"Huh?"

She huffs and moves her knight, "Just drop it."

Nope.

"You tried ta kill him. I ain't upset with ya, all I wanna know is why," I say, moving a pawn.

She sighs, "Well, the woman he fell in love with – she was more of a thing than a person. We might just meet her soon."

Wait a sec.

"So he fell in love with-?"

"Yup."

Well, damn. Never knew he was _that_ nuts.

Many moves later, she calms back down and I move my rook into her king's weak spot.

"Checkmate."

She looks at the board and smiles weakly to me, "I guess you win. Wanna play again?"


	10. Crash Course

[A/N:] Writing bug's been beating me over the head with creativity lately, woohoo! With my current outline, which I recently reworked, there are 6 more chapters and another one-shot in your future.

Thanks to my betas Jeanniebird and The Replicator.

I know I'm gonna sound like I'm begging, but it would be great if people would review. Just five minutes to tell me it's great or I'm so full of it, either way it's greatly appreciated.

* * *

><p>Chapter 10: Crash course<p>

Distant thunder crashes. It's raining again.

On my way t'the kitchen. Maybe I'll find something that won't upset my stomach more. Maybe.

Turning a corner, I run into the Fearless Leader. Literally. He wasn't paying attention and we walk right into each other.

"Oh, hello Logan. Sorry," he stammers.

"It's fine."

"So, uh," he starts. "We've scheduled a danger room session for the teams tomorrow morning."

"Good," I say.

"Professor Xavier suggested maybe you could watch," he says.

I'd really like ta do that, 'cept Jeannie and Moira might keep me down in the medlab then.

Wait a minute, I've been spendin' more time with Jean than you've been, One-Eye! And that right there is damn satisfying.

"Yeah, I might do that," I say with a bit of a smile.

"Alright," he says as he leaves. "Take care of yourself."

It's strange how concerned he's acting. Wonder why he suddenly gives a shit. Most of the time I'm sure he wishes I were dead.

"Always do, boyscout."

I grab some leftover pasta and head upstairs.

My light's on. I growl in frustration and open the door.

"Elise?!"

She looks up from the book she's reading, "Yep, that's my name."

"What're you doing in my room?"

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to play another game, but you weren't here and I got bored. Besides, it's not like I touched your stuff."

I glare at her, "Still."

She grins, "Anyway, speaking of games, Kitty was nice enough to record the Maple leaves game. Wanna watch it with John and I? We could just chill and watch it in my room if ya don't wanna be around the mob of students in the TV room downstai-."

We jump, Elise practically out of the chair. Lightning hit close to the mansion, probably one of the trees on the edge of the grounds.

She sighs. "I wish it would stop raining so I could go outside. I hope there's nice enough weather in a few days."

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

What she didn't say is more important: in a few days, we prob'ly won't be able ta even _go_ outside. Too sick or buried already.

Elise frowns, looking out the window. She's holding her chin with one elbow on the armrest to prop it up.

"I'll watch the game with ya, though," I say

She turns to look at me and smiles, "Okay."

Elise gets up and we both head off to her room. John's in there straightening things, but he shoves what he's working on in a pile when we come in so he can switch off his music and help Elise to the bed.

"John, could you put on the game, please?"

"Sure, Love."

I sit in the overstuffed chair in their room and put my feet up on the footrest as the pre-game commentary starts. Some of it's interesting, but most of its just badmouthing the other team.

Elise curls up next to John and he puts an arm around her.

The Maple Leaves quickly take the lead, but all the player on both teams are good.

This is a good distraction. I'll hafta thank Kitty later.

In the last quarter, the teams are deadlocked in a tie. The game goes into overtime. Tensions are high. Fights breakin' out on and off the ice. I find I'm gripping the arms of the seat so I can lean forward. Elise is yelling at the TV.

The Leaves finally score the winning goal. We all cheer. Elise spontaneously kisses John and then the recording ends.

John kisses her cheek and gets up.

"Want to watch something else?" He asks.

Elise nods then shifts in the bed and holds a spot of her back with a grimace before reaching for a bottle of pills and her water bottle.

"Wouldja like me ta leave?" I ask.

"No," she thinks for a moment. "Hey, why don't we watch 60's Batman starring Adam West? The only way it makes _any_ sense is large doses of drugs. Turns out we're in luck, Logan. Sorry John."

John chuckles and puts it on.

A superhero movie. Does she not realize the irony?

Prob'ly not.

Don't really wanna watch this movie, but not watching it means getting up, and I'd rather not. It also means I won't get to spend as much time with family.

~ooOoo~

Elise wakes me up when the credits roll. Guess I fell asleep. Movie was kinda boring; meds didn't help.

"I wouldn't'a woke you up 'cept the chair's gonna do not-nice things to your back," she says.

"Thanks," I say. "Y'ain't asleep yet yourself?"

She shakes her head and smiles, "Nope. Still wired. The sleeping pills Hank made for me work real fast, though, so I ain't worried. Just wanted ta stay up long enough to see my favorite line, which happens to be the last one."

"What is it?" I ask 'cos I missed it.

"Batman tells Robin 'Let's go, but inconspicuously – through the window' and then walks through the room full of people and repels out the window of a skyscraper in broad daylight," she says, grinning widely.

I chuckle, "Sounds like something you'd do."

Like the time Bobby bet you couldn't scale the side of the mansion. So you did it.

"All except for the repelling down the skyscraper thing. Never been fond of falling that far."

Since when has common sense ever stopped you from doing something dumb, I almost ask.

But I do say, "Remember, it ain't the fall that kills ya, it's the landing."

She swats the air, "You and your technicalities. My rule of thumb is if you have time to think 'ohshitohshitohshit', you've fallen too far," She laughs.

Something tells me you've done many things to come up with that rule of thumb, and then ignore it.

"Anyway, you should probably get to bed," she says.

"Yeah."

I get up and start to leave, but Elise stops me with a hug.

"Good night," she says. "I love you."

I hug her back, "Love ya, too."

~ooOoo~

After breakfast, John, Elise and I go to watch a danger room session. All of the team members're working fairly well together, but they all need a little more practice functioning like a team. That pat ain't too hard at least. Push 'em to their limits and they'll be forced to rely on each other. They got the use of their respective abilities down to a tee, now they need to learn how to complement each other's.

Whiteout accidentally blinds Parker with her powers and he shoots a web in the wrong direction. Scott has to dodge it.

"Restart mission," Scott says. The Danger room resets itself and they try again.

Well, fuck. They really gotta work on that.

Elise frowns. She's been seeming more and more down the longer this session's gone on. Hasn't said a single word, even.

Eventually, Elise has had enough and leaves with John. Soon as they leave, Chuck comes in. He'd left the session to check on Hank's progress.

"I have a bit of good news: the jet redesign is almost complete and Cypher was able to gleen a bit of information about the satellite before the firewall destroyed the hard drive."

"That's great news," I say.

I'll hafta tell Elise, maybe it'll cheer her up some.

"Yes," he says. "We now have some rudimentary schematics of the High Evolutionary's space station. However, we have no real knowledge of the security systems in place. Douglas is going to try again, routed through another country."

He rolls up to the danger room intercom and presses a button, "Good job, everyone. Time to take a short break. Spiderman, Rogue, you both are needed by Hank in the lab. Beta team, we now have schematics that you can practice with. You will need to know them by heart."

Xavier and I pour over the schematics and I help him program them into the danger room computer. We randomize it with potential security measures and placements. We know where the general area of the anti-mutant thing is, but we have no idea what it looks like, or if it's booby-trapped somehow. Or how it works, 'cos if we knew that, we'd probably be counteractin' it now instead of trying to beat the shit outta it.

Then again, beating the shit outta things tends to get the job done.

Once we get it all set up, Xavier sics beta team on the program.

They all do pretty damn well. 'Roro even put Wilson in his place! She can be quite convincing when she's righteously angry, and Wilson sure has a knack for making people angry. Woulda been more hilarious if she still had control over lightning so she could zap his ass to get the point across.

I knew you'd do fine, 'Ro.

This chair ain't agreein' with my spine. I gotta take a break to lie down before the team needs to take a break from the danger room.

"How are you doing, Logan?" Chuck asks.

I don't answer, just leave.

I'm getting pretty hungry, so I head to the kitchen.

I guess Xavier let the team take a break, too, 'cos when I get upstairs, 'Roro's already there.

"Would you like me to make you something, chicken soup, maybe? Warm soup is good for bad weather."

"Sounds good. Thanks, 'Ro."

The room is silent for a moment, until students crowd in or lunch, at least. They swarm in, fix their lunches, and leave the room in silence again.

'Roro starts humming an exotic tune I've never heard. She puts down the spoon she's stirring the soup with and goes to touch the window. It's coated in condensation with rain dripping on the outside.

"The garden will flood soon," she says.

She's always been so in tune with nature. It was a part of her, like it is with me. She's a goddess made mortal. Wish I could do something ta help. Instead, I'm the one needin' help.

Still, her loosin' her powers broke her connection with nature. It's gotta be bad as me loosin' my senses. Maybe worse.

'Ro stirs the soup a little while longer then dips me out a bowl. She sits across from me.

"Professor Xavier told me you picked the teams yourself. Why did you choose me to lead?"

I shrug, but try not to cause myself more pain, "I trust ya. You have experience."

"I didn't mean leading in general. Why did you choose me to lead the stealth team rather than the distraction? Scott has more experience."

"Dunno. Seemed right."

She nods and looks down, "This mission is more important than most, isn't it?"

I don't answer, but that's all she needed to hear to know.

She puts a hand on mine, "I will not fail."

I believe her. She won't let the team fail. She won't let Elise and I die.

I nod and from the bottom of my heart say, "Thank you."

She smiles and goes back to work whippin' the team into shape.

Why _did_ I pick her? I mean, she's one of the obvious choices, having led us before. But why didn't I choose Scott?

Maybe-

Aw, fuck it.


	11. Vanity

[A/N] Thanks to my beta Jeanniebird :)

Protip: never 'get inside the character's head' for writing purposes of a character/characters that has/have a fear of anything medical – and then go look up photos of dialysis machines. SERIOUSLY.

Your homework as a reader: go look up the song "Pieces" by RED. Beautiful song, and it's what the next chapter's named for.

Happy reading!

* * *

><p>Chapter 11: "Vanity"<p>

Later, Elise and I are back in the medlab. John had to carry her down because it's getting hard for her to walk. Since he put her in the bed, she hasn't moved other than to breathe. She's still awake, I can tell from how labored her breath is. And how she occasionally coughs.

Not only is she awake, but she's in agony and tryin' to stay quiet about it. She doesn't for long, though.

"Okay, so I realize you only upped our dosages of shit like, yesterday, but adamantium poisoning really doesn't fuck around," she hisses through her teeth.

Well ain't that the understatement of the century.

I want to help her, but I can't do a damned thing. I'm in the same boat she is, down ta holdin' the sheet in a vice grip so I don't yell.

In comparison, though, this is nothing. I've been through much worse. I can handle this.

Yeah, keep tellin' yerself that.

Jean and Moira haul out two large machines. They both say Prometheus on the side. Or front, maybe. Whatever.

"This should help," Jean says. "Your latest blood tests show that we can't push back dialysis any further."

Elise cringes and stares wide-eyed at the machines, "Do engineers have some sorta contest to make the most _terrifying_ medical equipment _possible_?!"

Sure seems like it, don't it?

Jean tries to reassure us, "It's just a dialysis machine. It does the job of your kidneys – and in this case, also your liver - so they won't have to work as hard."

Helpin' out failing organs seems like a great idea n' all –

Fuck! What are those tubes for?!

Moira's over there messin' around with a bunch'a sterile tubes and other medical shit.

Jean, what are those s'posed to be for?" I ask, pointing to 'em.

"Just catheters that will go into a large vein in the neck. Don't worry. It's not as scary as it sounds. It's really a very simple procedure."

Like hell it is!

Nope. Nope. Ain't happening. I start to rip off all the sensors and the IV. Pain be damned!

"Logan?!" Jean says. "What are you doing?"

"Red, I've had enough'a this shit. Done being a fucking pincushion."

With a great deal of effort, I leave.

Though, I can't even make it halfway down the hallway 'fore I'm doubled over in agony. I growl, cursing a streak. Feel like I'm gonna puke from pain.

_Swoosh_. The medlab doors open and Moira comes running out.

"This isnae doin' yeh any good actin' like a wee lad. Yer kidneys, liver and other organs are failing fast. If yeh refuse treatment now, yeh may not live long enough tae give yer friends a chance tae fight for yeh!"

"Don't ya get it? I don't wanna be down here at all. I can hold out in my room a few days, at least."

Just me and a metric fuckton of narcotics.

"No yeh won't," she says. She sounds so sure of herself.

I growl, defensive, "That a threat, lady?"

"Nae, I ken yer tae smart tae kill yerself from fear,

Fuck you, I have good reason to be freaked out. I scowl at her.

She continues, "… an' yeh care tae much tae let yer family suffer without yeh because yeh were tae stubborn tae live."

Can't handle the thought of how Elise might take me dying. What she might do to herself, 'specially if she ain't got her healing factor back yet.

She's right. There ain't a way I can snake my way outta this one.

"Fine, but this is the _last_ tube any'a you get ta stick in me, got it?"

She nods and offers a hand, "Shall we go then?"

Moira helps me slowly, agonizingly to my feet. My stomach twists in knots from the intensity of the pain slithering through my entire body. I take a step forward just for the pain to knock the breath right outta me.

By the time we make it back in the medlab, Jeannie's already sterilized an area on the far side of the medlab, where Elise is lying on a bed. Jean takes a syringe and puts it in Elise's IV line. Within moments, Elise relaxes and closes her eyes.

I look over at all the tubes and machines. Maybe I could tough it out an' make it to my room this time.

Moira hooks up all the medical shit to me again and the heart monitor betrays just how freaked out I am.

"Yeh'll be okay, lad, don't yeh worry. Jean an' I ken what we're doin'," she says.

No. That ain't the point. Fucking surgery and tubes are the point. There's a tray right by Jean and Elise with all sorts'a scalpels and other torture devices.

Meanwhile, Moira's lookin' me over. Had me take my shirt off'n everything.

"Lad, how long have yeh had these?" she asks.

Huh?

"Had what?"

Moira points to one'a the raw spots on my side, "They're hard tae see, what with all the bruising."

"Dunno," I say.

Don't ask me how I got 'em, either, 'cos you'll just get the same answer.

"They'll need cleaning or else they'll get infected and do yeh in before the toxicity can."

Doubt it, but whatever.

She cleans all the raw spots – stings like hell – before wrapping me in so many bandages I'm lookin' more and more like a mummy. Then she puts some antibiotics in the IV drip like Jean did for Elise.

She re-washes her hands and changes her gloves, puts on a mask.

I get this sour feeling in the pit of my gut, like milk curdling. My skin feels clammy and cold. The heart monitor beeps faster.

Moira looks at the monitor, frowns, and then comes over with a huge syringe and two glass vials.

"Would yeh be more comfortable with a local anesthetic, so yeh can be awake, or something tae make yeh drowsy an' relaxed?" she asks.

Like hell'm I gonna stay awake while she cuts my throat open.

"Second," I say.

She nods and sets one of the vials down. She uses the other to fill the syringe, before emptying it into my IV line.

"I'll be assisting Jean while yer sedative is taking effect."

Gettin' tired already. My eyelids're heavy as I watch Moira and Jean cut Elise's neck open and shove one'a the tubes down it.

I panic and try to fight back against the drug as I feel nightmare monsters creeping up on me.

They're gonna cut me open again. I can already feel it happening. Blood everywhere. Pain. So much pain.

I close my eyes in defeat.

~ooOoo~

Fuck. Where'm I?! There's an exam light over me.

"No. No!"

I can't be back here again. Not again. Never again. Try to pop my claws but nothing happens, arms just tingle.

"It's okay Logan. Calm down," John says.

Breathing heavy. Hurt all over.

"You're in the medlab, it's alright."

I start to calm down. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was reading my mind. He probably has enough experience dealing with Elise panicking that he knows what just happened to me.

Dammit.

Elise looks concerned, but doesn't say anything. She's in another bed, hooked up to a dialysis machine. I'm hooked to the other one.

Now that I think of it, my insides hurt a little less. So I guess the machine ain't totally useless.

John sits on Elise's bed with her and helps her sit up. He takes a hairbrush from a small blue bag and begins brushing her long hair. I guess it must be difficult for her to take care of all that now if she's in so much pain.

As John brushes her hair, chunks of it come out. He freezes. Elise twirls a lock in her fingers, and most of it falls out into her hand. She gasps.

I try to cheer her up, "Don't worry 'bout it too much, it'll grow back."

It doesn't work. She lies back down and doesn't say a word.

Guess there won't be much talking with her. It's better I leave her to herself on this one, don't want her to flip out and hurt herself again.

I try to get some shuteye to pass the time.

~ooOoo~

Hungry again, so I go to have s'more a that delicious soup 'Ro made. Soon as I take a bite, I hear the girls coming in. Specifically, Kitty, Jubilee, and Tabitha.

"Isn't Spiderman so hot?" Jubilee asks.

"I've seen better," says Tabitha.

"He's probably way too old for you, Jubes," Kitty says.

Tabitha laughs, "Yeah, like you're one to talk, Miss Russ-o-phile."

"Besides, that doesn't make him any less hot," Jubilee says, popping her gum.

Firecracker, you're gonna get yourself in a heap of trouble one day with that attitude of yours.

"He _is_ too old fer ya and I think he's taken anyway," I say.

"Oh, hi Logan," Kitty says. She looks surprised and blushes.

The other two greet me warily. Ain't like them. Jubilee's brow furrows and I catch her gaze trailing to all my bandages and all the bald patches from where more bandages used to be.

Really wish they didn't see me like this. Ain't even sure if it's a pride thing anymore. Actually kinda feel bad for the kids 'cos how worried they look.

Don't want them to worry. Don't want anyone to worry, but 'specially not them. They may be X-men, but they're still just kids. They should be worrying about kids' stuff – games, boys, whatever. Just not death.

After a few more awkward minutes, they've completed their snack raid and left.

I stir the soup in my bowl to cool it.

What's gonna happen if the team fails? I mean, besides the obvious.

I used to think that I'd looked death straight in the face and pulled through anyway. Now I don't think I've ever really done that 'till now. Even when things were at their worst, guess I always knew at the back'a my mind that I still had my fucking training wheels on.

Death was never really an option in the first place. But sometimes I convinced myself it was, for better or worse.

But back to the question, what'll happen?

Well, they'll be short two X-men at least. Hank'n Jean'll have their work cut out for them soon as Elise can't heal the team. Somebody else'll hafta teach survival. Maybe Rogue or the Cajun could do it.

But, if they can't get all the mutants' powers back, maybe there won't be a need for this school at all. X-men'll be fugitives lost to history, according to the public.

Xavier interrupts my train of thought, "Hank and I were just able to set a date for the mission, three more days. That will be just enough time to finish the jet and get a few more team-building exercises in."

"Ain't that cuttin' it awful close?"

He sighs, "Perhaps, but that is the soonest we can do, even with Rogue and Spiderman helping Hank with the jet."

I put my bowl in the sink, "They training again soon?"

"Yes, actually. In about an hour."

"I think I'm gonna go watch," I say.

Not that I'm excited to be back downstairs, but at least it ain't the melab.

He nods, "That sounds good."

~ooOoo~

When the time comes, I go back downstairs with Xavier to watch the teams train some more. They're doin' great now, following field orders. Stealth team's got the maze down to a T, ready for wherever guards or security devices may be.

Wilson usually takes care of the guards.

The later it gets, the more pain builds up in my system. Not to mention exhaustion. Took a nap today, but I'm already ready ta turn in for the night.

Damn my room being so far away from the elevator.

I don't quite make it to my room before collapsing in the hallway. I growl and curse, but manage to haul my ass up again to take those last few steps.

Someone took the braces back up to my room. Almost forgot about them completely.

Can't afford ta tempt fate, I guess. I take another dose of pain meds and try to sleep.

~ooOoo~

I wake up covered in sweat. It ain't even like the sweat I normally get from nightmares; it's way more'n usual. I run my hands through my hair and more falls out into my hand, sticking from the sweat.

Guess it's as good a time as any to take a shower.

I open the panel, strip off, take off bandages, and step in the shower. I'm all sorts of colors what with bruises of different ages and all these raw spots. The water burns. I have to lean against the wall just to keep steady. More hair comes out in my hand and into the drain.

I get out and dry off carefully before wrapping the towel around my waist and going to look in the mirror. I was ony days ago that I liked at myself in that bar's mirror and thought how bad I looked.

Well I guess I was mistaken.

I have small balt patches all over me – ones on my body're from bandages, but I also have very small bald patches on my head and in my sideburns. My skin's pale and tinted yellow, my eyes even more so.

Wait, what's that?

Around the raw spots especially, my skin's started peeling off!

What the fuck?!

Prob'ly still asleep. Maybe it's just a nightmare-

Holy shit, what's that?!

_Shinkt._

I turn and don't see anything. What the hell is wrong with me tonight?

I realize my knuckles hurt. I can feel the blood trickling down my fingers and a drop hits my foot.

Oh fuck.

Not this shit again! I retract my claws and my knuckles keep bleeding, not that I really expected them to stop. I throw the towel to the floor and put on some sweat pants. Blood stains them red in places. I grab a ruined shirt form my waste basket and rip two sections off, wrapping them around my knuckles to try to control the bleeding. It doesn't really do much, though.

Jean's room's the closest of the doctors. Gotta get to her. I stumble and almost collapse again, leaving red marks on the wall.

When I finally make it there, I'm so dizzy. Feel like… I'm gonna black out… Breathing fast and heavy.

_Knock knock knock._

Boyscout answers, opens the door.

"Logan?! What are you doing he- oh shit. Here, sit down."

He pulls over a chair and tries to wake Jean.

It seems like forever, but eventually a redheaded angel comes over to me.

"Logan, are you still awake?" she asks.

"Uh-huh."

"Alright," she says. "We need to get you to the medlab right now. Scott, can you help me?"

They help me get up, put one'a my arm 'round each of their shoulders. I struggle to walk with them, eventually we make it downstairs. They help me into a bed.

"Scott, go get Moira. Tell her we have an emergency."

He don't need to be told twice.

Jeannie hooks me up to a transfusion. All I wanna do is sleep.

I feel sharp pain in my knuckles. It moves and goes to the next one.

_Swoosh._

"Almost done stitching this hand. Moira, can you start on the other?"

"On it. Lad, yeh need tae try tae stay awake."

I try. It's hard, but startin' ta get easier.

Jean puts the monitor things on my chest. It starts beepin' like crazy. She puts something on my arm and with the sound of a motor it squeezes tight. Monitor beeps faster.

"Logan, I need you to look at me."

I do, and she shines a light in my eyes.

"Your pupil reaction times are a little slow," she says.

A little while later, once Moira's done stitching me up, she has me do all sorts of other reflex and basic strength tests. She writes something down on a tablet.

I start to feel better and more awake, but realize that peeling skin shit's not a nightmare. It's real.

"Hey Jean, look at this," I say and point to the peeling skin. "That ain't normal."

She frowns, "No, it isn't."

She and Moira clean out everything and cover me with bandages.

Eventually, she asks, "Why did you pop your claws?"

"I…" I pause.

That's a real good question.

"I really don't know."


	12. Pieces

Chapter 12: Pieces

The title of a song by RED

[A/N:] 3/4 of the chapters are now posted! We're on the home stretch now.

Edit: what even just happened? fixed now... That's what I get for not making absolutely sure I uploaded the right file...

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><p>I don't sleep a wink while I'm down here. Can't. The clock says it's morning, but it's all the same surrounded by fluorescent lights.<p>

Kurt and 'Roro come downstairs with breakfast for me, just like they'd done a few days ago. We exchange hellos, but a sad silence quickly falls over us. We try to make small talk, though.

"It's stopped raining. The ground hadn't been able to soak up the water, though," 'Roro says.

"Ja. The children have been playing sports in the mud since classes vere canceled."

Can't eat hardly any because of indigestion. Out of nowhere, I'm more sick than off meds.

Oh shit not in front'a-

gI belch, loudly.

"'Scuse me," I say.

Kurt chuckles, "Zat good?"

I laugh too, relieved I didn't just puke.

Y'know, I really do like spendin' time with these guys. They're closer than I've let practically anyone else, so close they know when I need distance. Too close to leave me when I only _say_ I need it.

They're the best friends a guy could ask for. And a guy like me-

I sure's hell don't deserve 'em.

After they leave, Jean comes over.

"Logan, you can leave, but you'll need to come back for treatment later tonight, or earlier if something happens."

"_Something_?" I ask.

She looks down, "Your organs are failing. Kidneys, liver, heart…" She trails off. "We're doing the best we can."

I already knew that, red. I can feel it. I can feel my insides giving up.

I'm just ready to get out while I'm still moble at all, barely. I try to hide it, but walking is gettin' harder and harder. Between worsening pain and coordination, I'm struggling to make it safely to the elevator.

When I get upstairs, I see Elise and John in the TV room. John whispers something to her and leaves, probably off to grab something.

I shuffle over to her and see she's watchin' old cartoons with Molly curled up asleep next to her. Elise is wearing too-big sweats and a beanie, covering any hair she has left.

It looks flat on her head, so likely not much.

She rubs Molly's back and rests her chin on Molly's head. I sit next to her.

"I don't want her to ever grow up. She's the perfect size right now," she says quietly, voice dry and cracking.

"She's gonna have to, though."

"Suppose so. At the very least she could keep her innocence. There's a lot of stuff in the world I wish she never had to see."

When we met the kid, she was part of a group called 'the Runaways'. Their parents were evil, so I guess adults in general were hard for her to trust. Can't say I blame her.

However, throwing me right through the wall was not necessary. After making sure I was alright, which I was, Elise thought it was the funniest thing and wouldn't let me live it down.

I suspect those two bonded a bit over that incident.

"Well she did hafta kill her parents to save the world"

"Yeah, and a whole lot of other stuff. No kid should have to go through that."

"I agree, but the world don't exactly work the way we want it."

'Specially not with what Jean's sayin' 'bout our condition.

"No. If anyone deserves a loving family, it's her- She called me mom yesterday. I think it was a slip up, but," She hugs Molly closer to her, smiling and crying at the same time. "She's my baby, regardless."

I smile and wrap an arm around her bony shoulder.

"I think that makes you her uncle."

I shrug.

"You make a good uncle," she smiles.

With what Jean said earlier, the teams may be cutting it a bit close. A lot close, actually.

I can't help but wonder, what if they fail? We'll die, and Molly'll lose another mother. Even if they ain't related, Molly seems ta see her that way. Or maybe an older sister.

Either way, she'd lose someone close.

I guess I shouldn't tell Elise what Jean said, not yet. She's way too happy right now. No reason to ruin that for her.

John comes in quietly with some broth for Elise. She reluctantly uncurls from around Molly and takes the bowl.

"Would you like anything, Logan?" John asks.

"No thanks."

I watch John as he kisses Elise's forehead and sits between us. He smiles to her, and she smiles back, but when she goes back to watching over Molly, he frowns, brows furrowed, and holds her hand.

~ooOoo~

It's time for dinner. Even with my senses at only a fraction of their peak, I can smell the chicken from here.

Molly watches a group of the kids she hangs out with go into the dining room. She looks at Elise, then back to them.

"It's okay, Moll, you can sit by your friends if you'd like. It won't hurt my feelings," Elise says.

Liar. You really want her to be here with you. We all know it, except for maybe Molly.

Molly hugs her, "Okay. See you later," and leaves.

Elise frowns and watches Molly join her friends.

She turns to me, "Would you like to have dinner upstairs with John and I? Fewer people, more comfortable seating."

I can definitely understand not wanting to sit with the rest. It's awkward when they try too hard to be just the right degree of nice.

"Yeah, why not."

"I'll bring you both plates in a minute," John says.

I help Elise over to to the elevator and to her room, which thankfully isn't far. Soon as we get up there, Elise almost collapses onto her bed. She looks in about as much pain as I'm in right now. So a metric fuckton, thereabouts.

I sit and lean back in the soft chair in her room. Neither of us say a word 'till John comes in with our plates.

"Thank ya, John," Elise says.

"Thanks," I say, taking the plate.

Elise mostly plays with her food, not really interested in eating. She's never been picky that I remember.

Which is to say, not very long.

As I eat, the indigestion from hell comes back. Probably why Elise doesn't seem ta wanna touch her food.

Oh shit. I'm gonna be sick. Not just a belch this time.

I haul myself off the chair and go as fast as I can to the bathroom. Barely make it before I'm violently ill –in all senses of the word. Got the runs so bad it's like a waterfall outta my ass. Vomit mostly ended up in the toilet.

When I'm done, I get up, then get dizzy and collapse on the floor with a loud _THUD_ and so much pain. The scent's foul and for a moment I'm glad I don't have my enhanced senses.

I probably could get up. Maybe. Don't think I have the energy, though. Or enough fucks to give.

What seems like an eternity later, John finds me.

"Logan?!"

He takes out his phone and dials a number frantically,

"J-jean, I need you to c-come up here."

John stays with me until help arrives. He helps me up and then down to the medlab.

I take a shower, mostly sitting. Manage not to fall on my face, at least. I put on some clean sweats and lay in a bed. Moira hooks me up to all the monitors and an IV. She also sets up the thousandth transfusion in a week.

I start to feel a little better from the fluids and meds. Soon as I'm good enough, John goes to find Elise, but when he opens the door, she's standing right there, leaning against a wall.

John helps her over, and she's having such a hard time walking you'd think she were drunk. Moira goes to examine her next. She notices a raw spot near her hairline, partially covered by her beanie.

"Can yeh take yer hat off for a moment, please?"

She rolls her eyes and does so.

What the hell?!

Her hair's short as mine, even doing a similar wolf-tuft thing, and flourecent fucking green.

Moira and Jean are shocked, but John doesn't react. He probably already knew she did it.

"So whydja-?" I try to ask, but she cuts me off.

"Might as well. My hair's falling out, anyway."

Jean and Mora set up the dialysis shit again. This time we don't have to have the tube put in us 'cuz it's already there. It takes practically no time at all. Jean goes into a back room while Moira runs some tests.

Jean comes out with two small boxes.

"I ordered in some wearable morphine pumps in case you two would like to try them. They'll keep you a little more mobile, hopefully."

Elise smiles weakly, "I'm for it."

"Sounds good," I say.

Once the dialysis is done and those things're hooked to us, we get to leave. John helps Elise upstairs, but I hear a noise from the danger room and go ta check it out.

Turns out Scott scheduled a late-evening training session. The team's doin' much better than before. They're working well together, going through the obstacles and security in record time.

I'd watch longer, but the morphine's makin' me tired. Don't wanna zonk out in the control room, so I head up to my room. My stomach growls when I'm about ta open the door, but I already made the effort to come up here, so it's gonna hafta wait.

~ooOoo~

When I wake up, I realize my clothes're drenched in sweat again. I scrounge through my doors and on my floor, but can't find anything clean.

I've officially run out of clean clothes. Don't want anyone's help, so I really gotta get this done now.

_What does it matter? You probably won't live to see the end of the month, anyway._

No. I'll be fine. Pain is only temporary.

_So is life._

I shrug away those thoughts. They ain't helping anything. I throw about half my dirty clothes in the laundry basket. I'll get the rest later; the basket is heavy enough as-is.

My back and sides burst into aching, stabbing pain. Pain meds I got prescribed hardly put a dent in it. I take a deep breath and muscle through it to the elevator.

I finish my trek to the laundry room, and the door's closed! Dammit. I grumble as I carefully put the basket down and reach for the doorknob.

No sooner do I touch it than I hear muffled sobbing. Probably some student whose boyfriend broke up with her or something. I turn to pick up my basket 'cos it ain't getting done now. Whoever it is wants their space.

"Whatever moron said smiling will make you feel better was full of shit."

Wait. That was Elise. Why's she-?

She sniffs and continues. "But I'm supposed to be the happy-go-lucky one, aren't I? The one that sees the silver lining to everything? It's much easier to do that when you have no reason to fear, y'know. Some of the students look up to me and think that I'm brave, but it's a lie. Anyone can be "_brave_", stare down a shotgun barrel or whatever if they know they'll walk away from it. Now I'm fragile and a fucking coward. And I _hate it_!" Something smacks against the wall and she starts sobbing again.

I know I shouldn't be listening, but I can't bring myself to leave. Never really thought of her as one to think so little of herself and it hurts to listen. Her monologue is like a car wreck, horrific but you can't help but watch.

"Figures. The times I wanted to die I couldn't, but now when I desperately want to live I can't do that either. Fuck you nature, fate, or whatever deity's listening. Fuck. You." She exhales sharply, "I can't be a sniveling little coward, not now. Can't let Logan-"

She's still talking to herself when I walk away from the door. I've heard too much already and I never should have listened in the first place. I'm about to slink back to my room and pretend I never heard anything when the door, squealing in protest, opens a crack.

More curious than I should be, I turn the corner back towards the laundry room as Elise exits. A look of surprise comes and goes from her face quicker than most would notice. Her eyes are puffy and red, her pale cheeks shining from a thin layer of moisture.

"Hi Logan!" she smiles. "Want me to help you with your laundry? I just finished some of mine."

"Only if you want to. Your eyes are kinda red; looks like you need some rest."

"Oi!" she swats my head. "It's very rude to criticize a girl's face!" She huffs and takes the basket from my hands. "And it's nothing, really. Just toss it in, chuck some detergent in there, and press a button. Simple."

I follow her into the laundry room where she insists on just setting up my laundry for me and leaving as quickly as possible. After she leaves, I notice something shining on the floor by the far wall.

It's Elise's 'X' pendant. I pick it up and put it in my pocket.

Don't know how you do it, sis. The act really is convincing. Had me, and probably everyone else, fooled. Don't worry; I'll keep your secret.

I'll keep it to the grave.


	13. Last Wishes

[A/N:] Thanks to my beta jeaniebird! I'll be posting the last few chapters within the next few days. There are 16 total. R&R please!

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><p>Chapter 13: Last Wishes<p>

Damn disease. Damn it to hell.

Can feel the rage and frustrations boiling inside me like hot grease. I can just-about taste the bitter yet darkly pleasant scent of bloodlust, but there's nothing to maim. Nobody but myself and the adamantium's working double time to do that for me.

Besides, even if I could muster the willpower to go downstairs, the danger room'd make short work of me without even trying. I can recall one other time I've felt this weak, but that's the part I wish I could forget but can't.

Some critical bastard may say I always solve my problems with violence, but it's worked pretty damn well for me so far.

And y'know what? Fuck critics. And introspection.

The only thing left for me to occupy my mind is myself. Ain't had ta think too hard on it since Chuck started tryin' ta convince me I'm more than the animal I was forced to be.

Back then, if someone'd told me I'd be sittin' up in my _dorm_ at some fancy school, I'da laughed in his face. Woulda thought he was crazy.

I'da also thought he were crazy if he told me I'd be dying. Not just dying, though, but dying with a life worth living. Actually makin' a difference somehow.

How many times have I wished I could just end it? And for what.

I'da missed out on findin' my purpose, or as close to it as I can guess. I'da missed out on finding Elise, makin' her believe I wasn't dead yet.

Still don't know much about my past, and Elise gets real cagey when I ask. Sometimes, though, she'll tell a story or two from when we were kids. I can tell she's telling the truth, but there're always a few details she glosses over.

Will I never get to figure out those details? Those little bits that would tell me so much more than anything else in the stories? I may not live long enough; _she_ may not live long enough.

If she dies, all the stories she won't tell anyone are gone forever.

We have to live. There's no other option. And for once I ain't the least bit upset about it. We've been through so much, it'd be a cruel joke to let us die weak and feeble like this.

Well y'know what? Death can kiss my ass.

So many times before I wouldn'ta cared if I died. My only wish would be for a hero's death if I could scrounge that up. Now though…

Now there ain't any villains in stupid costumes. The villain's inside me. Its winning now, but I can't let it.

Defiance ain't hope, but I s'pose it's close enough.

A knock at the door break my train of thought

"Come in," I say.

What does it matter if someone sees me sick anymore? Everyone's probably clued in by now. Ain't really got the pride left, anyway.

Kurt opens the door. I smell the bacon before I see it.

"I brought breakfast."

"Thanks," I smile a little, then frown.

"Wasn't the jet supposed to be done by now?" I ask.

"Ja, but there was a small delay with the viring. Ve vill be leaving in a few hours."

He puses, and sighs, "I know you don't believe in it, mein Freund, but I've been praying for you."

Like that's gonna help. If there is a god, I'm probably his sick joke.

"Whatever makes ya feel better, elf."

He smiles a little but drops it and I eat the stuff he brought me. We chat a little during, but nothing too important.

I'm in the mood for a few shots'a brandy. Against the rules, but when have I cared about the rules, really?

"Hey Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Couldja do me a favor an look in my closet, to the left, behind the hamper?"

He pulls out a shoe box. The glass inside tinks.

Might as well let someone know where it is in case I ain't around ta drink it. Wouldn't want good brandy to go to waste.

Kurt takes out two of the shot glasses and fills them, "A toast?"

"To what?" I ask.

He shrugs, "Friendship, perhaps."

"Success in the mission?" I suggest.

"That, too."

I grin, "How 'bout we just have two toasts?"

Kurt laughs, "That sounds like an excellent idea, mein Freund."

Later, Kurt leaves ta get ready to go. After a few minutes of boredom, I go downstairs myself.

It takes a while, though, and a lot of effort despite the morphine. Eventually, though, I make it to the common rooms.

"It's the adamantium, isn't it?" I hear Parker say from the day room.

How the hell would he know that? I stop at the threshold to listen.

"What makes ya say that?" Elise asks, cautious.

"I have a degree in chemistry. Plus, there are very few things that could make you both this sick this quickly."

"Oh. Well, yeah. You nailed it."

"I'm sorry," he says. Sounds genuine, too.

"Peter- Can I, um, can I ask a favor? Something important."

"Sure," he says. "Anything to help."

She holds out a thick sealed envelope from where he's sitting, "If things go bad, can you give this to Xavier? He'll know what to do with it."

He takes it, "Of course."

I wait a moment before coming in the room.

"Oh, Hi Logan," Elise smiles.

Now that I know what's up with her, that smile comes off as fake.

"Hey," I say, pretending I didn't hear a thing.

Parker slides the envelope into his bag. Wonder what's in it?

"Sorry I can't chat longer, but I have to go," he says.

"Bye Peter," she says, and looks down.

"Somethin' wrong?" I ask after he leaves.

"No. Just chatting," she says.

If you're gonna lie ta me at least explain some things, I almost say.

She doesn't offer any more info and I don't ask. Still curious, though.

_"If things go bad."_ Must mean if the mission fails an' we die, right? So it's a will, maybe?

Somehow I can't see her writin' out a will. Besides, that envelope was packed ready to burst, something else had to be in there.

If it ain't a will, what could she've put in there?

Hell if I know.

I sit next to her and wrap an arm around her shoulder. She leans in.

"Somethin's wrong," I say.

"No shit, Sherlock," she admits.

At least she's tellin' the truth this time.

"You gonna tell me what it is?"

"Nope," she says and scoots over closer.

"Fair enough," I say and drop it.

~ooOoo~

The team' leaving. Elise John and I're in the X-jet hanger with 'em sayin' our goodbyes. Hopin' they ain't our last.

'Roro comes up to me.

"Goodbye, Logan."

"See ya, 'Ro."

God, I hope I do.

After a pause, she hugs me.

Wasn't expectin' that!

"Team, we're set to liftoff in ten minutes. Everyone needs to be onboard now," Scott says.

"Goodbye," she says again before getting on the jet.

Elise, John and I leave the hanger so we don't get knocked over by the thrusters.

Wonder what that was all about?

Nothing else ta do, so I hang out in the empty changing room. Don't feel like goin' all the way upstairs. John and Elise go elsewhere.

That was strange of 'Ro. Real strange. Though, I guess just about everyone acts strange around death. Even if it ain't their own.

I take a shower, careful not to mess up the catheter thing or the morphine pump. Then I get dressed and spend probably hours just sittin' around in the changing room. Just thinking.

My train of thought gets broken by the screech of an alarm. I get up quick as I can and go to investigate.

No one's down here, it seems. Or at least they ain't checking out the alarm. Though, I s'pose if anyone's in Hank's lab they wouldn't hear it. He had that damn thing so soundproofed you prob'ly couldn't hear an explosion two feet from the door. That's why he's been keeping a pager on him.

The door to the danger room control center's open. Figure that's probably where the alarms comin' from.

No one's supposed to be in there now. The only people, besides Hank I guess, with the permissions to now're in orbit and on their way to beat the shit outta the High Evolutionary.

When I go inside, I see sparking and exposed wires, some of which are hooked up to a laptop running a command prompt.

Elise has been here.

I fact, there she is in the danger room. I can see her sitting in the middle of a meadow from the overhead window.

I panic for a second, thinking she might be tryna sic the danger room on herself, but no opponents come. She's just sitting there.

I enter the room myself and head over towards her. She doesn't look my way, but I guess she knows I'm there anyway.

"Isn't it beautiful?" She sighs. "Too bad it isn't real."

"Why are you here?" I ask.

"I just wanted to see outside again. That's all."

"Where's John?"

She lays down in the golden grass, "I told him I was going to the bathroom. He'll probably come looking for me in a few minutes."

"Yeah. D'ya really wanna give him a heart attack, though?"

"No," she hangs her head. "If this were any other time I wouldn't hafta feel guilty about takin' a break when I need it."

She picks a dandelion and blows off the seeds, wheezing a little after, and lies down.

"I just wanted to see outside," she repeats.

"I know," I lie down with her.

The gentle, manufactured breeze is pleasant. It sways the tall grass and makes the overall scene more relaxing. Nothing at all like the medlab we've been trapped in.

"I did, too," I say.

"What are you two doing?!" Hank says over the intercom. "Hacking the danger room to bypass the security features could cause it to attack you in defense!"

Well, that's all _I_ needed to hear to convince me to leave. Everything's fine for now, so I fgure I can wait a minute before complying. Elise doesn't leave, though.

"Fuck off and let me have my peace," she says.

"Elise, c'mon. please?" I ask.

She coughs into her elbow, but this time I swear I see red.

That's it. We're done here. Proving a point or not.

"Elise, now. We need to go," I say quietly.

She glares at me and crushes a flower in her hand, but does as I asked.

When we get up to the control room, Hank isn't finished with us yet, "Manipulating the danger room like that, especially after your access had been denied, is the fastest way to set off its security systems."

"I was fine," she hisses.

"That is entirely incorrect. If you so much as moved the wrong way, it could have killed you in an instant."

"Oh,_ now_ you tell me I wouldn't be fine. Look at us," She gestures to the both of us, her voice up a few octaves. "Do we look fine to you?! Why did you say we'd be fine?"

Then, she starts coughing again and there's no doubt there's blood spraying into her elbow.

The room starts greying out and I try to grab onto something for support.

I can't, though. The room shifts around me and shadows form monsters. Blood trickles through the tiles.

"Oh my god!"

_Beep._

There's blood everywhere. I'm drowning in it again.

"He's seizing!"

The shadows consume me. One by one they tear me apart. More blood.

"How're you gonna – his claws?!"

They start attacking Elise, too. She screams and cries.

"Jean I need you right now! Hurry!"

"Logan please don't die! Dammit, please?!"

So much blood.

"Logan!" She screams as the shadows take us.


	14. My Finest Hour

[A/N:] Thanks again, jeaniebird! :)

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><p>Chapter 14: "MY FINEST HOUR"<p>

_"Well everything is opposite down here_

_The strong survive and the rest just disappear_

_Oh, but your philosophy is more unique_

_You say I'll be stronger when I'm weak_  
><em>This will be my finest hour"<em> ~ Mathew West ("My Finest Hour")

I've been on some anti-seizure meds for a few hours now. Been doin' better. sort of. At least I haven't had another seizure.

Still, Elise has been practically glued to me this entire time. We both have to stay in the medlab now since she started coughing up blood and my body short circuited.

If we're gonna get ta leave the medlab, it sure's hell won't be for a long time.

John's down here reading Elise some Shakespeare since that's really all he can do for her. She seems to be enjoying it, but she keeps glancing back to me to make sure I'm still alive or something. She freaks out whenever one of the monitors shows a blip on one of our heartrates, which has been happening more and more frequently. Jean says it's called an arrhythmia or something like that.

Point is it means our hearts are havin' issues doing the one job they have to do. And Hank's real worried about blood clots.

He's back takin' care of us now. Since the jet's up in orbit, he can help out Jean and Moira.

And boy, have Elise and I kept their hands full. Not even in the usual sense. Just so many damn medical problems rolled into adamantium poisoning.

I listen to John read for a while. Ain't like I can really do much else.

Little while later, Hank comes in with bad news.

"We've lost contact. I'll keep trying to regain the signal, but it appears the communicator has been damaged irreparably," he says. He leaves to try again.

Elise's brow furrows and a tear rolls down her cheek, "S-so this is it, then? They failed?"

"Hey," I put my hand on hers. "It ain't over yet. What happened to ya? The Elise I know would stare death in the eye and threaten it."

She looks at me and dabs her tears with the sheet, "Only when I thought we had a chance."

I grin, "Nah, you don't give up till someone can shut ya up. And everyone knows nothing can do that."

She smiles weakly back, "Like Avalon?"

That mission was absolute hell for the both of us. It was a monumental clusterfuck. Sure, we got done what needed to, but Magneto turned the metal on my bones into liquid and _ripped it out through my pores_. Then Elise and Xavier flipped their shit and Elise got her ribs bent into her lungs.

And Onslaught got created. Let's not forget that.

"Yeah," I say after a moment. " I'd given up, but you could barely speak an' you were still yelling yer loudest tellin' Xavier he better not let me die."

"So's this like that? We gonna knock on death's door an' scoot again?"

"Guess so."

There's a pause, and Elise breaks it.

"I missed you, when ya left," she says quietly.

"I know," I say. "Missed you and the rest, too."

Suddenly, she holds her forehead and winces in pain.

John start gettin antsy, "Moira?"

And Moira comes to her aid. "Headache?" she asks.

Elise nods, "Feels weird, different than last time."

Moira's brow furrows and her lips get pressed into a hard line, "How so?"

Elise answers quietly, slurring her words a bit, "Jus' different. Feel sleepy an'-"

Before she can finish that sentence, she slumps back in the bed, unconscious, and the monitor starts going crazy.

"Elise?!" John yells.

"John, fetch Hank. Now," Moira orders.

John runs off without a second thought.

I ask, "What's goin' on?!"

Moira shakes her head and grabs a cart full of emergency lookin' stuff, "Lad, yeh may not want tae watch."

Jean starts shoving a tube down Elise's throat, who's been turning a pale blue. The monitor freaks out a little less and her color returns to the sickly yellow.

John comes back with Hank and Xavier.

"Wash up, I think Elise just had a stroke," Jean says.

Fuck.

Oh shit. Not her, please not her. Why not me?

Moira runs to the storage room to get something and comes back with a screen and some small tubes and other medical shit

"She gonna be alright?" I ask.

"Do yeh want the honest answer or the one that'll make yeh feel better?"

I cringe, "Honest."

"I don't ken," she says.

They all get to work tryin' ta make her better. Hank has to tell John to back off early on since the guy's getting hysterical.

Jean makes another cut in Elise's neck and threads a small tube up the cut. Hank does the same on the other side. They mover her over to the scanner machine and turn it on. Can't see the images, but they're working from 'em in real time.

"Found the bleed," Hank says after a couple of gut-wrenching minutes. Another few seconds, and the room relaxes. We all let out a collective sigh of relief.

"That's…" Hank trails off, collecting his thoughts. "All we can do."

"So ya can't wake her up?" I ask.

Moira shakes her head sadly, "Nae. The lass is too frail for corrective surgery. All's left is tae pray for a miracle, I'm afraid."

Maybe, if the team can destroy or shut down the machine before anything else gets fucked up, maybe she can live. And heal.

Christ, it's gonna take so long to heal. Our organs're practically rotting inside of us, filling up with stray adamantium.

John comes back in and he sits by Elise. Now that she ain't talking or moving around, I'd probably mistake her for dead if the monitors weren't sayin' different.

He leans over the bed and lays his head near her hand and holds it.

"Why?" He asks.

I can't answer him. I guess life just sucks and then you die.

Won't tell him that, though. He already knows.

"Logan, how are you doing this? You seem so calm."

"Can't do anything ta change it, can I? Why waste time and energy if I can't do a damn thing?"

"But you can't die. Neither of you can."

"Ain't like we have a choice in the matter. Don't wanna die, but I guess death is just part of life."

"No. You can't-"

"John, I'd rather be dead than spend much longer stuck in the medlab. That just ain't livin'. Thanks for staying an' helping with us. I've enjoyed your company."

At that moment, John completely breaks down sobbing.

Great, now I feel like a complete jackass. I try ta console him.

"Don't mourn us while we're still alive, John."

I look over to Elise, then back to John.

"Go talk to her. She can prob'ly still hear you. Maybe read some more'a that play."

He pulls himself together even smiles weakly at the idea. Little spark of hope. He goes back to read and gets excited every time her heart speeds up or skips a beat to the sound of his voice.

Don't have it in me to tell him its prob'ly 'cause her heart's starting to give out, too.

Later, it becomes apparent Hank and Xavier still can't get in contact with the team. Jean somberly comes over to me to talk.

"Hey, Red," I say.

She looks like she may cry. "Hi," she says back.

After a pause, I ask, "Wouldja mind if I asked ya something?"

"Ask away."

"Do you- If Scott weren't in the picture- D'ya think..?"

Jeannie looks down and shuts her eyes tight.

"C'mon," I try to goad her. "The truth can't hurt any worse'n this."

She doesn't look up, "I'm sorry, Logan. I- I can't. Could never…" and trails off.

Even though I saw it coming, the rejection hurts much more than I thought it would. Practically have to gasp for breath from the blow.

"Why?" I ask.

"Why does anything happen the way it does? Sometimes we don't control life, life controls us."

Yeah. Like all this adamantium shit.

Jean dabs her eyes. "Anyway," she says. "I came to talk to you about something."

"Yeah?" I try to pretend I ain't still nursing my wounded ego.

"No matter what happens, we won't be able to give you enough morphine to even remotely manage your pain soon. You've refused medicine in this sort of situation before, but I was still wondering if you'd like us to put you in a chemically-induced coma – at least until your healing factor is restored."

I sigh, and look over to Elise and John. She looks oddly peaceful; not in pain. And I guess part of me doesn't want my pessimism to upset John any more.

I nod.

"Do you want anyone in particular here?" she asks.

Hafta think about that. Would want Kurt here, 'cept he's a million miles away try'na save my ass. 'Roro comes to mind, can't get that hug outta my head.

She's gone too, though.

Dammit. Looking back, all those moments, she didn't just care about me. It was so more than that an' I never noticed. It seems so obvious now.

"Logan?" Jean asks.

"No."

She nods and says, "I'll set up the medication."

A while later, after she talked in the back room for a while with the others, Jean comes out with a vial and a syringe.

"We'll be here when you wake up," she says.

You mean 'if', Red.

She puts the syringe in the IV line and pushes in the medicine.

"It'll be a few minutes before it takes effect."

I nod, then lean over to Elise.

I whisper, "Sis, don't be mad at me fer lyin, but I didn't want ya to worry none. Shit happens sometimes. Just wish it weren't to you." I pause and put her pendant in her hand and close her fingers around it. "And if ya ask me, you're one'a the bravest people I know."

Soon, the darkness greets me and I gladly accept it.


	15. Paradise Lost

Thanks to my beta Jeanniebird. One more chapter after this, guys.

* * *

><p>Chapter 15: "Paradise Lost"<p>

_"Into this wild Abyss _

_The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave—_

_ Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,_

_But all these in their pregnant causes mixed_

_Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,_

_Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain_

_His dark materials to create more worlds,-_

_Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend_

_Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while,_

_Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith_

_He had to cross. " ~John Milton (Paradise Lost, book 2)_

* * *

><p>I'm back where I was almost two decades ago. Naked, alone in the snow, covered in blood that's only partially mine.<p>

I hunt with wolves with metal claws I can't explain. I only know my name from the dogtags around my neck.

Pain is my existence. From the cold, my bare feet crack, bleed, and heal over again. It makes my metal-coated bones ache.

I remember the agony, the fear, but that's all. My nightmares fill in some of the gaps. I don't know dreams can be anything but horror.

I'm nothing more than an animal now, just a far cry from the man I will become.

I meet these strangers and they take me in. Heather and Mac. No clue what they see in me, but they put up with me anyway. They're good people.

Chuck convinces me to join, and that's when my life changes forever. Don't get along too well with the team at first, but eventually I make a place for myself here. I learn so much about myself and what it is ta be a mutant.

But more than that, how to be _human_.

One day, I meet this kid in Chicago with Xavier, 'Ro, and Pete. She's got spunk, and actually ends up saving the whole team from an attack from the Hellfire Club with powers she just found out she had.

Kid makes me go soft. We go on a few adventures together. Turns out I can't just make her wait in the jet 'cause pretty much nothing can hold her.

Kitty's a good kid. Smart, too.

Then there's firecracker; Jubilee. She's got quite a mouth on her but she's strong willed and a fighter when it counts. We've saved each other a few times over.

I trained her, and she's great in the field, even with her attitude the size of Texas.

Even though she insists on wearing obnoxious colors all the time and her bubblegum-popping habit drives me nuts, she managed to find a place in my heart.

One day, I head off to the bar looking for a fight. Just gotta get outta the mansion. When I get there, there's this tiny feral woman with the biggest napoleon complex I've ever seen.

"Who the hell are you?" she asks me outta nowhere.

I don't answer at first, don't think it's worth it.

"Why?" I finally ask

"Ya look familiar," She says.

That piques my interest.

"Yeah?"

"What's your name?" She asks again, a little less hostile.

"Logan."

She frowns, "Nevermind."

But just as soon as she's dropped that subject, she's egging me on ta fight her. Guess she got bored with the usual bar scene. When I got there a fight had just broken up.

"I ain't gonna fight ya, lady."

'Lady's a real stretch since she ain't acting the part.

"Elise, will you cut it out, already? You're gonna get us kicked out and I kinda like this place," Says a latina woman with red and orange streaks in her black hair. Her clothing's tight aroung her curves and I can sense she has more than a fever, but doesn't have the smell'a sick on her.

"Aw lighten up, Tanya. The last guy hit first."

"After you antagonized him," she glares.

Elise goes to take a swig of her drink –straight vodka from the smell- but it's suddenly on fire! She takes a look at it, grins widely, and gulps the flaming liquid anyway.

"Tsk tsk, not in public, Tanya."

Tanya throws up her hands, "You're impossible!"

"I try," she says then turns to me. "Ya sure ya don't wanna fight me? Just a little scuffle and I'll leave ya alone. Please?"

I try to ignore her and consider just leaving.

She gets uncomfortably close, probably on purpose, "C'mon. I can _smell_ how pissed off you are. Howsabout ya let off a little steam? You won't hurt me."

My six adamantium claws that cut steel like butter say different.

Speaking of adamantium, I smell it on her! No wonder she said I won't hurt her.

She throws the first punch and I block reflexively. Now she's starting to get annoying.

We fight together so graceful it's like a dance we've done a hundred times before. We just met!

Except we hadn't. Not long after, she regained her memories and I'm still stuck without mine. I sometimes wonder if her memories were never completely gone, I knew she'd get flashes of them fairly often, 'specially after she met me. Xavier said it was something like a mental block from trauma. Nothing a good knock to the head can't help solve, apparently. Her adamantium-coated skull dented the danger room wall.

For a while, she wanted nothing to do with me.

Funny how things change.

Now I'm at her wedding. She said she doesn't care if I wear a suit because it's very informal, but I wear my Sunday best for her anyway.

She smiles widely when she sees me. It matches her just-bellow-the-knee white dress so well. She's got pale green ribbons tied to the straps and hanging loosely over her shoulders. Her long hair's unbraided and she's got a halo of wildflowers on her head.

I lead her down the makeshift aisle in a field of tall grass and flowers She and John say their vows, and they kiss. Elise throws the bouquet at me instead of to one of the bachelorettes.

Much later, there's a new kid at the mansion, I'm showing her around. She's a real chatterbox, keeps going on about the stupidest things.

All I did was call her a brat. Suddenly I'm flying through the wall.

Elise runs over, "Logan?! Are you alright?"

"Yeah. That brat just threw me through the wall!" I growl.

Elise looks back to Molly, then back to me. She's got a devious grin plastered across her face.

"So _you're_ telling _me_ that _that_ little girl threw you through the wall?"

"Yes!"

And then she bursts into laughter. After she gets out of her laughing fit, she turns to Molly.

"What's your name?"

"Molly Hayes."

"Well Molly, that guy over there" she points to me "is my big brother. I can understand wanting to throw him through the wall sometimes, and I'm sure he did something to deserve it-"

I cut her off and brush the rubble off my jeans "You're siding with her?!"

"Let's face it Logan, she's a million times cuter than you. Of course I'm siding with her. What did you do, anyway?"

"He called me a brat and said mean things about my parents!"

"Logan!" She scolds. "I'da thrown you through the wall, too!"

"But isn't condoning students throwing me through a wall kinda a bad thing for you to do?"

"Maybe, but the way I see it, two wrongs didn't make a right here, they made hilarity. Which is close enough. Anyway, you're coming with me, Molly. Ya need to finish your tour, right?"

"Yeah," she says.

Elise wraps an arm around Molly's shoulder and continues the tour where I left off.

Good riddance.

There are so many times 'Ro and I go out into the woods together, just to be around nature. They all flash before me. Most times we don't come in together, but rather find each other while we're there.

All those little moments – touching my hand looking into my eyes – play over and over. She hugs me as she leaves.

That morning I came home after drinking, she was hiding something. I wonder what it is?

Now I'm walking around the mansion Barefoot, no tubes or wires anymore. It seems empty here. Wonder what time it is? I see sunset through the window answers my question.

I hear something from the kitchen and go to check it out. Jubilee, Kitty, and Molly are all sitting with snacks at the breakfast bar. Firecracker doesn't seem to want to touch hers for once. She just keeps stirring the icecream in the bowl.

"I'm worried about Logan and Elise. They looked really sick the last I saw them."

I decide against letting her know I'm right here. Just let them keep talking.

Jubilee nods, but seems more concerned with mashing her icecream into a soup. If her actions weren't proof-positive, the strained look on her face says much more about how upset she is than anything she could say.

"Yeah. I've hardly seen them lately," Molly says. "I really miss hanging out with them but they're almost never downstairs anymore."

I wander out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the day room. The scent starts shifting. One moment it's Elise and John bringing a toddler to visit, 'Roro scooping her up, the next moment the blinds are closed, everyone sad and dressed in black.

I go to the conference room, where the X-men are getting their group photo taken. Some of the younger members are adults and decked out in their unique costumes. The scene shifts again to Kurt packing up Elise's and my costumes.

I run upstairs, breathing heavy. I check Elise's room, and she's siting on her bed braiding Molly's hair. But the scene shifts again, and it ain't Elise on the bed anymore. It's John. He's alone. No clue how much time has passed, but none of Elise's things have moved since I last saw 'em. Dust is starting to collect. Sheets are rumpled on Elise's side of the bed and her music's playing. John lays his hand on the empty side of the bed and closes his eyes, visibly in pain.

No. This can't be happening!

I go to the balcony and look out. Everyone's playing football – even Elise and I? It starts raining lightly and once again the scene shifts, this time to a funeral.

It's packed! I didn't even know we knew that many people. At least not that many that would come to a funeral.

Xavier's giving a great eulogy. Actually makes me sound like a good guy.

Though no one else seems to have noticed me, in the middle of his eulogy Xavier stops and looks up.

"Logan?"

The entire scene disintegrates around us and Chuck and I are on the same level. Chuck, who's standing on his own, smiles at me.

"Welcome back."


	16. Flowers

Thanks to Jeanniebird and everyone who's stayed here since the beginning, or have been here since.

I'm going to finish up a last one shot and Fragility will be done with, finally.

The next fic I'm working on is already underway. It's called "Scarred."

* * *

><p>Chapter 16: "Flowers"<p>

Ughh.

Lights too bright. I open my eyes and I'm practically blinded, but then my vision adjusts and I can see sharp as ever.

Jean, Hank, Moira, Xavier, Kurt, and Ororo are there by my bed, smiling.

"Velcome back to the land of the living, mein Freund."

Practically a party in here.

Ain't hooked up to anything, so I sit up. I feel fine, Better than fine, I feel great. So hungry, though.

The antiseptic and hospital smell burns like hell in my nose, as well as a lot of blood and other scents I'd rather not place. My own BO being one of them. Need to take a shower ASAP.

All the bruises are gone, even my knuckles look like nothing ever happened.

Wait. Why isn't Elise bouncing around and talking up a storm?

I look over to my right and she she's still unconscious in a bed. John's sittin' by her and looks up when I notice him.

"Is she…?"

Don't smell death. Can hear her heartbeat, but it's still worrisome she ain't up yet.

John replies telepathically as he sweeps a lock of hair behind Elise's ear and smiles, _She's fine. She should wake up shortly._

I smile, stand and stretch. Feel a little stiff. "How long was I out?" I ask.

"Nearly four days," Hank says.

Ororo comes over and hugs me again. I hug her back.

Half joking, I wisper to her, "'Ro, I wouldn't get too close if I were you, worked up a sweat healin' n' all."

She lets go, but she's still got a smile so bright her face is practically glowing. Can't help but smile back.

"No matter," she says.

Just like that, a small dark raincloud forms above us.

Reminds me of that time we were in the danger room like any other time, 'cept she decided she needed a shower _right then_ and just stripped and make it rain all around her.

Kurt clears his throat, tail twitching and edging away from the growing raincloud.

"I vould prefer not to get my fur wet," he says.

Out of nowhere, I hear Elise's bubbly laugh and get shot in the back of the head with a rubber band.

"Get a room!" She says, joking.

"Hey, there ya are! Took ya long enough," I tease.

Elise manages to stick her tongue out at me while still grinning, "And you, too, Romeo."

I hear her stomach roar, almost thought we had a lion in here for a second it's so loud.

"Dude, I feel like I could eat an elephant - and still be hungry for desert. We should go remedy this. To the kitchen!" She says, striking a pose with one hand on her hip and the other pointed up and forward.

Kurt and 'Ro stand in front of the door. " Before you go, " he says. "You two should see something."

Together they open the door. Elise, John and I step out into the subbasement hallway, which looks completely different. Nearly every square inch is covered in various flavors and varieties of "Get well soon" and "We love you" type cards. All are from the students, the vast majority handmade.

Someone even taped some origami flowers to the door frame!

Elise says, "Woah."

Woah is right. I ain't never seen anything like it. Never dreamed I would.

'Ro stands next to me. We share a glance and exchange a smile.

"Oof!"

'Roro and I break our glance when we hear Elise get tackle-hugged by Molly.

"Do you like it, Elise? It was my idea. Kitty helped hang them up, though."

"I love it, Moll-doll," she says, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and smiling widely. "Don't tell your friends I cried, though."

She hugs Molly tightly, holding her close. I smile at them and feel 'Ro locking fingers with me.

Out of impulse, I grin, and brush her hair behind her ear and kiss her.

She freezes for s split second, a little shocked at first, but quickly relaxes and kisses back.

Elise wolf-whistles and laughs. Molly giggles, too.

I reluctantly break away from the kiss to give Elise a stink eye.

"ANYway," she says. "I'm gonna go raid the kitchen. Last one up does the dishes! She has John's hand I one of hers, and one of Molly's in the other and runs to the elevator. Kurt, Hank, Xavier and Jean follow.

Now it's just 'Ro and I.

"Are you going to join the others?" she asks.

"Nah," I say. "That can wait. I got all the company I need right here.

I draw her close and go right back where we'd left off.

I guess it took almost dying to find the things truly worth living for.

THE END.


End file.
